


Broken Fool's Journey

by BkZa555



Series: The Broken Fool [1]
Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canonical Character Death, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Angst, One-Sided Mochizuki Ryoji/Yuuki Makoto, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 148,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27305095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BkZa555/pseuds/BkZa555
Summary: The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed. Through the cards are the Journey, from one insignificant soul to the truth of the world. From the innocent Fool to the end and the new beginning.The Arcana, however, only acts as guides. How this one broken Fool would navigate through the sea of his own soul, is of his own choosing. The path remains undecided, and he is the only one who would be able to carve his own path forward.[Persona 3. 22 cards, 22 trials, 1 Journey. Canon Divergence]
Relationships: Arisato Minato/Takeba Yukari, Persona 3 Protagonist/Takeba Yukari, Takeba Yukari/Yuuki Makoto
Series: The Broken Fool [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185629
Comments: 262
Kudos: 157





	1. 0: The Reckless Fool

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! As promised, here it is.
> 
> Apparently, I like to torture myself very much. The experience of depression and PTSD here might not be accurate, so I apologize in advance. Some of them is inspired from my personal experience, however, so... yes, please do enjoy.
> 
> Biweekly update. Except for the next chapter, which is scheduled for next week!

**_0: The Reckless Fool_**

_Fool: New beginning, Spontaneity, Innocence, Free Spirit_

_Reversed Fool: Inconsideration, recklessness, risk-taking_

* * *

It’s… disconcerting, how Yuuki is both calculating and reckless.

The words that shouldn’t have coexisted within one sentence are what Yukari thinks describe Yuuki best, and she does _not_ like the way they sound.

She watches with her heart in her throat as he slashes and stabs at the Shadows, throwing himself into the fray without care, yet cool-headed enough to make elaborate plans to sabotage Shadows when they enter his field of vision. His orders are concise and effective. Yukari couldn’t help but be both in awe and concerned for his well-being.

He hadn’t made any major mistakes during their Tartarus expedition, yet, but he came close many times. It’s mostly small, inconsequential things at first—a little bump on the arm as he hits the wall a bit harder than he should, or a little nick on his cheek as the lightning bolt cackled and struck past him. Then, as he got bolder, those things got more prominent, more _real_ , and some are beginning to get nearly fatal.

But in the end, he never made enough mistakes to land himself in a bind, so Kirijou and Sanada hadn’t said anything. Maybe a little talk, and some chiding, sure, but that’s all they’ve done so far.

And she doesn’t like it.

Tonight is much like any other, where Yuuki takes the lead, with Junpei right behind him. Kirijou is at the entrance, providing communication support with Sanada protecting her, while Yukari hangs back to provide ranged coverage. And it is in this position that she actually gets to see just how _reckless_ Yuuki truly is.

He makes an order with his index finger pointing at her. He takes only a moment to look her way before rushing head first against the Shadow, towering over him. His words to Junpei are short and clear, pointing him to flank the large Shadow as he takes the lead. He doesn’t flinch when lightning strikes down to where he was before, singing his arm slightly. He doesn’t flinch when its behemoth blade sweeps over his head and grazing his hand just ever so slightly.

“Junpei! Distract it!” He calls, hand going for the Evoker. Junpei nods in confirmation as he puts the barrel against his temple, summoning forth Hermes to his side.

“ _Hermes!_ _Agi!_ ”

He repels the descending blade with his own and nearly sinks to one knee as small bursts of flame engulfs the Shadow’s upper half. Yukari immediately knocks an arrow and fires it, shifting the weight off of him. He doesn’t look at her, but nods a little, as he puts the Evoker to his head, his eyes pointing towards where its mask lies.

“Yuuki-kun!” She cries out, seeing another set of blades being swung down his way. “To your right!”

But he doesn’t _listen_.

Instead, he pulls the trigger as the blade reaches him and deflects it with the hilt of his sword. The sharp edge sinks into his arm, but he doesn’t pull away, not even when the stronger force pushes him back and tips his balance. A strange persona (another one? How many does he has under his sleeves?), a _unicorn_ , bursts forth from the wall of azure flame and stabs the Shadow with its one horn, bringing the thing down a peg.

Without even looking at his bleeding arm, or his seemingly twisted ankle, he pulls the trigger again, with his voice calling for yet another name. “ _Jack O’Lantern!_ ”

The small pumpkin-headed magician manifests itself, and within its lantern a spark of flame. In the next second, the fire grows, and soon the large Shadow is engulfed in scorching inferno and disappears, leaving only smoldering ruins behind.

“Haah… that’s done, alright!” Junpei says, sitting back down, rubbing his neck. “You okay there, Makoto?”

“Yes,” He says curtly, putting his Evoker back down and examining his arm as it bleeds. He quickly turns out of Junpei’s sight and presses a firm hand on it. “We should head back for tonight.”

“Yeah, we really should, huh,” The other muses. “Man, I’m beat.”

Yuuki looks at her briefly before nodding his head, walking past her. She looks on in horror as realization really struck her.

He _knows_ she can’t heal anymore, and yet—!

“Wait!” She calls, running to match his increasingly fast pace. He has somehow stopped the bleeding with a roll of gauze, but he does limp a little. He only turns to her with a small but noticeable confused look on his face. When she reaches him, she stops him from walking and points at the wound. “Why would you do that when you know I can’t heal you?”

“I won’t die, and we’d be taking down the Shadow,” He states simply, emotionlessly.

“Take better care of yourself!” She snaps. “What the hell is wrong with you!?”

He looks at her a while longer, but doesn’t say anything else as they exit Tartarus.

* * *

While Yuuki’s last minute arrival to save them from the Emperor and Empress Shadow is welcomed, Yukari still couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he cares (he _does_ care, huh) more about _them_ than himself off.

Once the Shadows are defeated, all of them collapse, but it looks to her that he’s more beaten up than the rest of them combined.

With a bit of difficulty, she gets up and stumbles over. Yamagishi is holding Yuuki up in seated position, while the boy just pants, keeping a hand firm to his side. The other girl looks up at her with a tired smile before she pushes Yuuki up a little more.

The boy groans, planting the other hand – the hand that’s still clutching onto his Evoker – firm on the floor to keep himself from falling. Yukari kneels down and examines him briefly with her eyes and just some light touches. Touches that he promptly pulls away from.

“Yuuki-kun,” She says, grabbing the scruff of his shirt (just enough not to hurt him) and pulling him to her, so he won’t be able to wriggle away. When he looks at her, she just frowns. “How’re you feeling?”

“I feel f—”

“If you say you’re fine, I’m going to _slap_ you.”

He bites down on his own tongue and looks away. She holds up a hand to Yamagishi to apologize as she sits down beside Yuuki, who still has a hand clutching at his flank. She figures his ribs might be broken from all the tossing and beating he’s gotten, and she’ll _not_ let him play this tough guy act or the reckless act anymore if she can help it.

After a moment, he sighs. “Breathing hurts my right side. Probably some broken ribs.”

“I see. Anything else?” She nudges his hand away and puts her own in its place. He tenses up, his breath hitches a little, but he doesn’t shy away from her touch this time.

“…Dunno, just really tired,” He mumbles out as his breathing slows down. He looks over to the others, battered and beaten, but so, so _alive_. “…Sorry.”

She looks up at him. “For what?”

“I should’ve come here with you,” He says, frowning minutely. It takes Yukari a moment to realize that he’s feeling _guilty_. But he shouldn’t have blamed himself; it was she who ordered him to stay, after all. And it seems like he notices this, because he continues in a subdued voice. “It’s not like I don’t care. I guess… I’m just afraid.”

“Afraid?” She repeats, trying to heal him a bit more. The short sleeve of his shirt rolls up a little as he shifts his body forward, revealing the faint scar from the last time she’s tried to chide him for being reckless. When he doesn’t elaborate, Yukari sighs inwardly and murmurs. “Afraid of what?”

“People,” He says simply, still not looking her way.

…She’s really not going to be getting anything out of him tonight, and the poor boy looks like he _needs_ a good, uninterrupted sleep.

She just smiles slightly as she finishes healing him up as much as she could. She manages to get rid of _some_ of the pain, but he’ll have to deal with the broken ribs for a while longer. “Well, let’s head back, shall we?”

“Okay,” Is the last thing he says that night.

* * *

He smiles.

That, in an of itself, is a _miracle_.

Once they get back to the dorm, and after Fuuka moved it, he seems to… actually smile a bit more – but it’s just a subtle quirk of his lips, and it’s mostly when they’re not looking. She’d catch him smiling at them whenever they gather at the lounge, talking, playing, laughing. He still doesn’t participate much in the conversations, if at all, but that change alone is _huge_ on its own right.

They still don’t talk much, but the air around him has changed, and for the better. He still speaks in mostly one-word answers or short sentences, but he seems more attentive, and his answers are changing from _whatever_ to _yes_ or _no_. His facial expressions are softer, too.

While she, Fuuka and Junpei are hanging around the kitchen, he walks in, the earphones firm against his ears as he blasts music into them. Fuuka subtly waves at him, and he complies, walking over and sitting down next to Yukari.

“So, Yuuki-kun, if you don’t mind me asking… why did you move to Port Island?” Fuuka asks softly. “I did know that you were invited here, but what made you accepted it?”

His expression doesn’t change, but Yukari notices his hand clenching under the table slightly. She gives Fuuka a look, and the girl almost immediately backtracks when Yuuki says, almost inaudibly. “Because I don’t have a reason to stay where I was… and no reason to refuse.”

“Don’t you have friends from there?” Junpei says. Yukari resists the urge to shout at him. His timing is _terrible!_

Yuuki doesn’t smile. He doesn’t frown, either. But Yukari notices the subtle pain in his steel gray eyes as he answers. “No.”

“…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Fuuka begins, apologetic.

He is surprisingly quick to diffuse her uneasiness with a hand raised and that soft, subtle smile on his lips as he says. “It’s alright, Yamagishi. I’m fine answering the question. It doesn’t bother me.”

Even if he said that, she could still see the underlying uneasiness in the ways that he moves.

He’s changed, but he still hides his fear and his pain under that thick wall.

And she’s determined to break them.

* * *

She just wants some peace and quiet, only to see that the dorm’s roof is already occupied.

“…Yuuki-kun?”

He turns to her with the same passive face, the same expressionless eyes – or rather, _seemingly_ dull eyes that conceal his suffering quite well. He just gives her a small nod before turning his gaze back towards the night sky, his back hunched as he remains seated on the stone bench. She isn’t quite sure what she’s supposed to do next, but he shifts and scoots over, leaving her enough space to sit down.

She takes the silent invitation and joins him. He doesn’t look over at her and keeps his gaze up in the sky as the soft, warm wind breezes over them. He looks almost peaceful, save for the frown forming on his face. But then it disappears as quickly as it comes.

“…You can talk to me, if you want to,” She offers quietly, still keeping her eyes on him. “I know I’m not the best person for this, but… I guess you could use an ear or two.”

He huffs a little, and his lips curl up into a small smile. “Thank you, Takeba.”

“You’re welcome,” She murmurs, grinning at him.

The silence is comfortable as it stretches, with him keeping his eyes up, and hers on his feature. After a while, he looks down at his own feet, and then at her. She feels her face heating up slightly, but tries her best to push it back down.

“I was afraid of people.”

“…What?”

“You asked me before, why I said I was sorry for not coming with you,” He explains, his voice soft, his eyes gentle. He looks away and down at his hands, his fingers nervously playing on the small scars on them. “I was afraid of bonds… or rather, of people.”

“Why?” She asks, tilting her head slightly.

“When my parents died,” He begins, his brows furrowing ever so slightly. “When they died, there were no one else. I ended up in foster care, and got bounced around from one house, to another, to another. I adapted to suit everyone’s whims, only to be needed. If they want me to be loud, then I’m loud. If they want me to keep my head down and stay quiet, then that’s what I’ll do.”

She feels a lump forming in her throat, unsure of what to say. In the end, she chooses not to – he’s opening up, to her, and it’s not her place to comment on anything.

“Living was a game, where I needed to reshape myself so that I’d be needed, and loved. But none of those lasted very long. They’d call me a monster, gave me names, beat me… and did some things I won’t be naming,” He murmurs, his voice a bit shaken, but his eyes convey that he _wants_ to continue. “I ended up on the streets for awhile before I landed myself back in foster care and went to another set of foster homes. And there, it’s just… worse.”

He pauses to take in long, deep breaths.

“Because I was quiet, or maybe too adaptable, I don’t know… none of the kids or the adults liked me, maybe except for one. They’d do anything they can to keep me away. They’d beat me up, put me down, say many things to the point that they don’t hurt anymore, and leave me in isolation. At first, I wished that I’d just die and be gone for good… but after a while, I just couldn’t feel anything anymore.”

“Yuuki-kun…” She begins, putting a reluctant hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

He just shakes his head.

“A few months before I came here, one of my mother’s distant relatives managed to contact me, and she took me under her wings. By that point, I was just apathetic. I didn’t care if I live, I didn’t care if I die. It’s much simpler, living that way and not caring about a thing. But…”

He turns to smile at her, and she feels that lump returning, and her heart aches.

“It’s a really lonely way to live,” Yuuki murmurs, looking back to his hands as they tremble. Minutely, but still visible. “I don’t want to get close to anyone. Maybe I’m afraid I’ll end up unwanted and booted out again, but… I guess, that’s just why I was afraid of people in general. The ones I cared about most ended up dead, and the ones I don’t end up hurting me. I’m just afraid of feeling those things again.”

He’s… inside, he’s just a child, broken and afraid and lonely.

Yukari should’ve expected that, and yet…

“You know,” She begins, a little pensive, drawing his attention to her. She scoots over, a little closer, the hand on his arm squeezing lightly, reassuringly. “I’m sorry, for the things I said. I should’ve handled it better when I knew nothing about your situation.”

“Don’t apologize,” He says softly. “It’s not like I’m the easiest person to talk to.”

“No, you’re not,” She giggles. But then, she frowns slightly. “Then why were you so reckless? Heading into battle with not a care? Is it because you don’t care if you live or die?”

“No,” He shakes his head, eyes casting downward again. He chews the inside of his mouth a little before he speaks up, much quieter. His voice is slightly broken. “…I want to be needed. After summoning my Persona, I realize that fighting Shadows is something I can do really well. I did what I was told because—”

“—You don’t want the SEES to abandon you,” She finishes, the realization dawning on her.

“…Yes.”

Yukari doesn’t know what she should say, if _at all_. All she could do is watch his body languages, as his shoulders hunch slightly, as if curling into himself. Even if he seems cold and uncaring, deep down he’s just afraid and lonely. He still is. He’s afraid of being abandoned, of being hurt, so he put up a tall wall around him to keep himself from feeling anything.

Before she knows it, she’s already hugging him.

“Takeba—?”

“Just… don’t talk,” She mumbles, holding him tighter. He’s frozen stiff, at first, but he slowly relaxes and leans his head on her shoulder. He keeps his hands to his side as he exhales, his warm breath tickling her neck.

She cards her fingers through his soft hair, patting his head slightly. She feels him sigh against her as he shifts his head, to rest his face against the crook of her neck, and she finds that she really doesn’t mind it. He’s warm, he’s shivering slightly, he’s lonely, and he’s afraid.

She won’t allow that to happen anymore.

“If you’re afraid or lonely or anything, tell me,” She says softly. “I’ll help however I can, okay?”

She hears him hums a little before he murmurs with a nod. “…Alright. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.”

When she pulls away, the smile on his face is more noticeable, gentler, and more genuine. He gives her a small bow before he leans back slightly, craning his head up to face the night sky once more.

She joins him.

He’s a child, isolated and scared and scarred.

And she’ll make sure he doesn’t feel that way again.


	2. I: The Deceived Magician

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’re a monster! You killed your own parents! Monster!
> 
> Get away from me! Don’t touch me!
> 
> Murderer!
> 
> He chokes back down something that’s threatening to crawl up his throat.
> 
> He doesn’t want to feel.
> 
> He doesn’t want to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back! So... yeah, I just spat out 50k words for this fic and it's only halfway done. Hang on, boys, we're going for one fucking ride!
> 
> A bit of traumatic experiences and flashback for our blue cinnamon boi... I'm sorry XD

**_I: The Deceived Magician_ **

_Magician: Willpower, Desire, Creation, Manifestation_

_Reversed Magician: Trickery, Illusion, Deception_

* * *

His mind is foggy, his head heavy and numb.

He could feel his body just fine. He isn’t hurt, but he couldn’t think straight, either. Every time a thought of what he was doing or where he is comes up, it would be promptly shot down and left to rot. He tries, and tries, and tries again, but the more he does, the more muddled his mind gets.

 _Why am I here…?_

Suddenly, pain. Lightning strikes through his brain, searing the inside of his eyes white. He doubles down, the vague, distant sound of running shower barely registers into his senses. He grips his head, trying to breathe normally, as he _wills_ himself to think through the fog. He starts with something simple; he’s Yuuki Makoto… and today is July 7th.

 _Embrace your desire…_

A voice whispers into his mind. He shakes his head, trying to get rid of it, trying to centre himself. But the more he thinks, the more pain runs through his entire body, discouraging him. But he can’t allow that – something is telling him to keep trying. He _has_ to remember.

 _I am the voice of your inner self_ … _Enjoy the moment…_

 _That which cannot be felt is merely a dream… the present is all we have._

He screws his eyes shut, curling into himself, feeling his knees pressing against his forehead. He _has_ to think. Keep thinking, or he’s going to be lost under the murky water. He can’t allow that, not yet. He tries again, begging his mind to work as he tries to recall where he is, or why he’s here. Tonight is—

_Future is but a fantasy, memory a fabrication…_

_Let your desire free you from your shackles… such is my wish…_

He shakes his head harder as something tries to wriggle its way inside his subconscious. He grips his head harder as he tries to will the pain away, but it’s getting harder. He can’t think straight – but he _must_.

 _Pleasure is what you truly want._

_You stand before the doorway to bliss._

_You cannot deny your instincts… embrace your desire…_

He shakes his head, again, and again, and again. The pain gets sharper, cutting deep into his soul like hot knife, burning and searing its way through his mind like it’s nothing but butter.

And suddenly, he’s _screaming_.

The thing decides to stop trying to convince him, and is now forcefully prying his brain open, trying to make its way inside his head. He feels like his skull’s being split and dragged and bashed and drilled, every inches of his mind crying and shrieking out in pain. He feels his body hitting something hard, but he couldn’t focus on it. All he could feel is the mind-numbing burn scalding through every fiber of his being, and it hurts, it _hurts—_

He feels someone touching his shoulders, grabbing him gently, but he couldn’t move. If he does, he’s going to break into a thousand pieces. He grits his teeth so hard he could feel the ache in his jaws, but he doesn’t know how else to stop screaming and ripping his throat off. White noises fill his ears, and black spots cover his visions as he tries to listen, to see, to _feel_ something else.

 _If you’ll not embrace me,_ the voice says, demanding, scornful. He feels _fingers_ creeping inside his brain and addling his thoughts further. His hand finds something – the wall, or the floor, probably – and claws at it, the blooming stings at the tip of his fingers clearing up the murky water a little. But the fingers grip and tear and _dig_ into him, and he could do nothing but scream as the voice hisses, with anger. _If you will not embrace me, then I will take your body by force._

His body moves on its own, and his hands are grabbing something soft and warm, slightly soaked. He tries to focus, just enough to know what’s happening. As if by cruel, diabolical intent, his vision suddenly clears, and his ears could pick up the choking and—

He is choking Takeba.

 _He is choking the life out of her_.

She’s looking up at him, confused, surprised, _scared_ , her hands feebly attempting to remove his own. While her arms can handle bows just fine, it’s clear that he’s still stronger as his hands clamp themselves around her throat like vices. He feels someone trying to reach him, but the merciless fingers are keeping them away and forcing his body to try to _kill Takeba_.

She’s _begging_ , her voice hoarse, her hands trying to pry his fingers apart. But with each passing second, her strength seems to slip away, her grips slacken, her eyes dazed and unfocused. She’s _dying_ —

 _She’s dying because of you,_ the cruel voice mocks as it forces him to strangle her harder.

He can’t, he _can’t_ allow that—

He uses all the willpower he has to push himself away from her, and the burning pain is back in his head as he stumbles back, hitting the wall. He grips his head and shakes it, trying to get rid of the crawling inside his mind as they try to take control, again, and again, and again—

He sees Takeba sitting up, coughing, a hand on her throat. She’s looking at him, first with frightened gaze, then with concern and worry. She gets up, unsure on her feet, and tries to reach out to him.

 _You will be the one to kill her, and you will be the one to face the consequences_.

His body is going to move forward again, and he can’t allow that—

In his muddled mind, he could still think enough to find a solution. If he can’t force his body to stop doing what he doesn’t want it, then he has to stop it from _moving_. He wrestles the control of his own body back by sheer resolve as he stumbles and reaches for his sword. He doubts the thing will care if he’s in pain, because he couldn’t even control how hard he’s strangling her, so much so that his fingers are numb and his hands are cramped up.

He needs to stop himself from moving altogether, by whatever means necessary.

With a sharp, resolute movement, he cuts his right Achilles tendon with the blade, forcing his leg to give out under him and stopping himself from even walking.

The voice hisses at him, but soon retreats away into the dark. The pain slowly subsides as he breathes hard, his thoughts still addled and confused. He tries to ground himself, his hand – he’s somehow ripped his nails off of one hand – finding whatever he could and holding onto it. There are footsteps getting closer to him, and the voice he thought was gone is _back_ , stronger, fiercer, _angrier_.

“ _Don’t_ ,” He gasps out as his body tries to move on its own again, but it ends up stumbling and falling forward as his right leg couldn’t move due to his well-planned cut. The voice hisses, and he grits his teeth, trying to keep his control. He looks up just enough to see Takeba’s bare feet not too far from him. With a groan, he murmurs. “Don’t come any closer.”

The voice lets out a sharp shrill before it slithers away and out of his mind again, leaving him cold and dazed. He blinks and crawls towards the nearest wall before sitting himself up, both hands covering his face as he tries to gather his shattered thoughts.

Then Yamagishi’s voice cuts through the nearly impenetrable fog, clearing his mind a bit more. _“Yuuki-kun! I could finally reach you! Are you okay?”_

 _No,_ “Yeah,” He murmurs, not looking at Takeba as he hears her footfalls again. He puts up a hand to stop her, not trusting himself enough. He looks at his bleeding leg – he’s cut himself deep enough to completely severe his Achilles tendon, it seems. “What happened?”

 _“There is another Shadow,_ ” She says. He could surmise as much – nothing else could’ve crawled their ways through his head like that. He closes his eyes and focuses on Yamagishi’s voice as she continues. _“It took me so long to reach you because it was interfering with your thoughts. I got to Yukari-chan first, but it seemed like she was attacked, just now—are you two ambushed?_ ”

He finally looks up at Takeba, her neck sporting ugly bruises, shaped like fingers – _his fingers_. He chokes down a whimper before answering Yamagishi while keeping an eye on the archer as she just looks at him with unreadable expressions, except for one – _fear_. “Something like that.”

She’s afraid. Of him.

 _Of course she would. You just tried to strangle her to death_.

_“I’ve already contacted the others. The Shadow is still in the same room. Please regroup immediately!”_

“Roger,” He murmurs, still trying to get rid of the feeling of her life slowly being snuffed away by his own hands. _His hands,_ just like ten years ago, with his _mother and everyone else—_

“…Can you stand?” She snaps him out of his thoughts with a low, unsure voice.

He doesn’t answer right away, not quite sure of what to actually say or do. He looks down at his heel, still bleeding profusely, the deep gash stinging, making itself known. He closes his eyes and calls for _Ganga_ before slowly reaching for his Evoker. He glances at Takeba again before saying. “You go ahead. I need to heal first.”

“Let me—”

“ _Please,_ ” He begs. He couldn’t allow her to get close, not right now, not tonight. He couldn’t trust himself enough to _not_ do something like that again. His hands are trembling as he holds his Evoker in them. He could feel his own fear, and those tiny little voices calling him _monsters_ crawling and ricocheting inside him. When she doesn’t move, he says again, a little louder, a bit more broken. “Just _go_.”

“No,” She states firmly.

He doesn’t look up as he pulls the trigger and calls Ganga to his side, focusing on healing the wound just enough for him to continue fighting. “I’ll be fine. Just go.”

She says nothing, but also refusing to leave. The warm light is slowly stopping the bleeding, but he can’t waste too much of his psyche to heal a wound this big completely. He methodically picks out the tendons and forces his Persona to heal just _that_ part, so that he would be able to move. He still couldn’t look up at her, so he chooses to look down at his own hands, shaken and cold and sweating.

“Yuuki-kun,” She says again before coughing slightly. He doesn’t look up – not until he feels her hand on his wrist and pulling him up. The wound is taken care off enough for him to move again, so he puts Ganga away and turns to look at her. She’s frowning. “It isn’t your fault—”

“Isn’t it?” He almost growls at her, his nails digging deep into one of his palms as he pulls her hand away from her throat, revealing the evidence that he had come _so close_ to murdering her. “If you had been weaker, or I had been a second slower, I would’ve _choked_ you to _death_.”

“I—”

“Let’s just go,” He murmurs with finality, pushing all the uneasiness and fear back down to the pit of his soul as he opens the door. The quicker he can kill that thing, the better.

He couldn’t trust himself anymore. Not after what he’s just done.

* * *

His leg hurts like a bitch, but the boiling anger (and the soul-rending _fear_ ) is keeping him focused.

He dodges and hacks away at the Shadow’s limbs as it moans and growls, its unsightly body being flung around from one side to the other, Junpei and Sanada doing a spectacular job at keeping its attention divided for him to chip away at its body and limbs.

He ignores Takeba’s gaze as he tries to get close and finish the job. Ducking past the sweeping tentacle as it knocks a pane of glass down and shatters it, jumping to the side to avoid fireball being spat from its mask. Once he’s almost face to face with it, he puts the Evoker to his head and—

“ _Yuuki-kun! It’s going to use Marin Karin!_ ”

He couldn’t switch his Persona in time—

The pain is back, the crawling fingers numbering in the _thousands_ as they dig and crawl and bury their ways into his head. He hears himself screaming as he falls down, hitting the ground hard. There are some panicked voices calling out to him, but they are rendered into nothing more than white noises. Then, that damn malevolent voice is back, stronger, louder.

_You’re mine, now._

“Get away!” He bellows, trying to force his hands down as much as he could, but the fingers are too much, too overwhelming, as he feels himself struggling under the invisible force. His body is putting the Evoker to his head, and he _knows_ he can defeat everyone on his own, because they’d hesitate, but his body would _not_.

“Yuuki!” Kirijou tries to reach him, but the Shadow sweeps the ground before her, stopping her advance. He could feel his finger tightening around the trigger. He has to make a call.

“Takeba!” He commands, panic lacing his voice as he forces himself against the excruciating pain radiating through his limbs. He has to buy them time somehow. “Shoot the Evoker out of my hand!”

She looks torn. She’s _hesitating_.

“Come on!” He calls, louder. “ _Shoot!_ ”

The arrow comes flying, piercing his hand through and through. He loses his grip strength, and with one swift motion, he forces himself to fling the Evoker away into a far corner. The Shadow hisses into his head as it forces him to grip his blade tighter, and before he knows it, he’s facing Takeba again.

She raises the bow to defend against his strike, and even if he’s attempting to regain control, the close proximity with the Shadow and its growing anger are making any sort of voluntary movement _impossible_.

“Makoto!” He hears Junpei calls. He knows he can’t get out like in that room, because even if its control is strong, the distance made it easy for him to resist. But right now, it’s only a few steps away from him. He’s their field leader, and he’s the first to fall to enemy’s command – how utterly _unsightly_.

“Put me out of commission!” He orders as he feels himself striking into the same spot again, and again, and again. Takeba is about to take a knee, and her bow will break at any second now. He glances over, and sees that Kirijou is the closet to him. A surgical strike. That’s what he needs. “Kirijou-senpai! Strike the wound on my heel again!”

She’s level-headed enough to understand the significance and the urgency of his order. With a nod, she runs up to him while Sanada pushes the Shadow back with Polydeuces. Pain then sears through the same spot he’s cut himself, and he falls to his knee.

But then the damn thing _forces_ him to move again, even though his leg is screaming and bleeding. It’s _not enough_ , not this time.

 _Somewhere else_ , he needs to be struck somewhere else that would put his body out of the picture for good. He _has_ to –

_It’s a gamble. But I have to, before I kill Takeba._

He looks over at Kirijou again, who hides her own horrified look quite well. He’s… going to be tricking her into doing this, because if he doesn’t, she will hesitate, and he’ll be killing Takeba within the next swing—

“Senpai! I can heal myself, so _do whatever you have to_ and push me off her!”

The truth is, he can’t. That damn spell makes the registration of anything else that’s happening slow, but he _knows_ it has already drained his psyche _empty_. He can’t heal, and he knows Takeba can’t, either. However, he, at worst, _might_ die doing this, but the archer _will_ if this continues any longer.

“…Got it!” To his relief, Kirijou nods and practically rams him with Penthesilea. The air is knocked out of him as he skids across the floor, the shattered glass cutting his skin a little (a lot), and his ribs creak and groan, cackling as he breathes. The fingers crawl all over and under his skin, forcing him up despite the pain (it hurts, it _hurts_ ), and he’s throwing himself against the Persona again.

This time, Penthesilea encases his lower half and both of his forearm in ice, stopping his movement completely. He doubles over when the Shadow hisses furiously inside his head, but yells at Kirijou when she attempts to walk to him. “Get rid of that thing first!”

Kirijou gives him a resolute nod before she dashes off to join the others, leaving him panting inside the ice as the voice gets louder and louder, tearing and clawing at his head like there is no tomorrow.

He ignores Takeba as she wavers, her eyes remaining on him.

He closes his own. All he could do now is wait.

* * *

The Shadow is surprisingly tame, combat-wise.

It doesn’t take long for the others to finish it off. When it goes down, the persistent call at the back of his mind is gone, and he sighs in relief.

Kirijou apologizes with her expression as she undoes the ice, and he promptly falls face-first into the floor, all the pain and the exhaustion finally catching up to the slowly receding adrenaline. He pushes himself up with Junpei’s help. The other puts his arm over his shoulders and helps him stand, the sting from the cut tendon making itself known once again.

“You should heal that,” Kirijou says with a frown. “And… sorry.”

“It’s necessary,” He says with a small smile and a shake of his head. He then frowns before plucking the arrow still stuck in his hand off with his teeth, earning himself a surprised yelp from Junpei (sorry). He then looks down at his leg as it’s dragged along the floor, leaving a long trail of red behind. “…I’m out of gas, so healing isn’t going to happen today. Sorry.”

Her face turns foul in an instant. “You lied.”

“It’s necessary,” He repeats himself, rubbing his temple with his free hand. “Head hurts.”

Kirijou and Yamagishi wince a little. He spies Takeba frowning at him from the corner of his eyes, her hand flying up to her throat. He ignores it as Yamagishi comes a little closer. “Are you sure you’re okay? Its control over you sounded and felt really… taxing.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” He murmurs (he lies). “A good night’s sleep should do, I think.”

“Let’s take care of the wound first before you rest, and I’ll call the school tomorrow,” Kirijou says, arms crossed. “You take the most damage out of all of us combined, so I’m giving you a day off.”

“Appreciated it,” He mumbles, feeling Junpei taking most of the weight off of his feet ( _foot_ , rather). He doesn’t complain, too hurt and too tired to care.

He just wants to sleep and forget the feeling of his fingers around Takeba’s throat as he’s suffocating her life into nothingness.

 _You’re a monster! You killed your own parents! Monster!_

_Get away from me! Don’t touch me!_

_Murderer!_

He chokes back down something that’s threatening to crawl up his throat.

He doesn’t want to feel.

He doesn’t want to _remember._

* * *

 _Fingers clamping around soft, warm, slightly drenched skin. She struggles under his fingertips as her life slowly ebbs away. The light in her eyes are dimming, the strength of her hands fading. She’s trying to say something, but in the end, all that made it out of her mouth is a word, so quiet one would’ve missed it if they are not listening._

_“Why?”_

_And soon, everything stops._

He wakes with a start.

He’s covered in sweats, his hands cold, the feeling from yesterday lingering in them. He looks down, his fingers trembling, his palms clammy, his breaths ragged. He gasps, trying to force the fear back down. Clasping his hands together as if he could force the tremor away (he can’t), he focuses on his breathing, drawing in slow, steady breaths, again, and again, until his body stops shaking.

The clock says it is way past noon already, and the sunlight is scorching his skin as he remains on his bed, still panting, slightly dazed. He shakes his head before forcing himself up, the wound in his Achilles tendon and his back making it almost impossible for him to stand without aid. He’ll get all of those fixed tonight, so he’s not worried much, but he still needs to walk around. He grabs at the crutches Kirijou brought to him yesterday and uses one of the pair to help him trudges around his own room.

After a while (and a lot of pain), he finds himself in the lounge, the crutch forgotten on the floor, his hands clasped together, shaking uncontrollably. His breathing is fast, and he’s starting to see things he shouldn’t have, hearing things he shouldn’t be able to—

He’s drowning. Someone’s pushing his head down under the water, his eyes facing the sky as the sun burns bright. A hand on the scruff of his neck. He tries to fight, hands gripping on something warm. He clenches his fingers around it.

He’s pulled out, and he keeps his grip there, harder, ignoring the voices around him until—

_Stop! What are you doing!? Why are you choking him!?_

_He’s dead! He’s **dead**!_

_This must be how he killed his mom and dad! Choking them to death!_

_Monster! You’re a monster!_

“It wasn’t me,” He murmurs as the memories of time long past start flooding back in. The memories he thought he had already forgotten. The feeling of asphyxiation as fresh water rushes into his windpipe is back, and he’s choking, he’s drowning, he’s _dying_.

He gasps.

“It wasn’t… I was just trying not to—”

 _You strangled him! Look! There are still finger marks on his neck!_

“He started it—”

_You killed him! He’s done nothing to you! **Nothing**!_

“I was just trying to protect myself…!”

 _You monster! You **are** a monster! Just die already, you murderer!_

“Please… believe me…”

 _MURDERER!_

“I didn’t… I just…”

_The car is burning. She’s saying something. Then flame engulfs her completely, mercilessly. He hears chains clinging. Cloak flying in the night sky. Screech fills the air. The shadow stops._

_She’s dead._

“Mom, I’m sorry…”

_Fire rises into the sky, pillars of orange blaze surrounding the house. She’s screaming. He sees her. But he doesn’t do anything as her skin’s burnt off and charred and she’s choking on the smokes._

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”

 _“Yuuki-kun,” She chokes, as his hands cut off the air, crushing her windpipe. She’s clawing desperately as his fingers strengthen their holds. “Please… stop…”_

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

_Eyes are getting hazy, the light dying down, voice quieter and quieter, hands moving slower as he crushes and squeezes at her neck harder until—_

He gasps and coughs, violently hurled back into reality. He’s drenched in sweat, he’s panting, he can’t feel his arms or legs. All he could feel is the feeling of being forced under water, of his hands trying to _squeeze someone’s life_ out of their bodies.

He can’t trust himself.

He can’t trust himself _not to kill someone_ again.

It’s proven before, by just how many times he’s been sent back to foster care, by how _gleeful_ his caretaker, his mother’s own relative, is when she realizes he’s invited into the dorm.

By how he’s murdered someone he _loves_ by leaving them as they’re burnt to ashes.

By how he’s murdered someone with the same method he’s about to use on _her_.

He’s a monster.

And _nothing_ will ever change that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! This chapter's quite something, tbh. Trust me, you're not going to like what I put Makoto through. At least a few chapters are dedicate to trying to break him. Sorry...?
> 
> Anyways, see you later, folks! Stay safe, and see you soon!


	3. II: Voice of the Priestess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She opens her mouth a few times, only to shoot her own questions down, again and again. In the end, she only manages out a meager, “How are you?”
> 
> He would usually answer with a “fine” or something along that line in a heartbeat. This time, however, he doesn’t reply right away, taking a moment to bite on his own tongue.
> 
> After a while, he says quietly. “Couldn’t sleep.”
> 
> That’s better than she had hoped. “Nightmares?”
> 
> For the first time in nearly two weeks, he smiles, no matter how painful or dry it looks. He closes his eyes and exhales. “Flashbacks.”
> 
> She winces. “You mean when you…”
> 
> “That,” He nods in confirmation, his hands trembling slightly. She wants to hold them, but she knows she shouldn’t. But then, he continues. “And… the times from when I was younger.”
> 
> “…I won’t pry,” She says quietly, tugging the stray strands of hair back behind her ear. “But if you want someone to talk about it… I’ll be there.”
> 
> “Okay,” He says with a small smile. “Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm a little early. Decided to update this weekly anyway because right now, I've almost finished The Devil (Arcana number XV, mind you) so... I've got like 14 buffer chapters now? Cheers, folk! My plot bunny is still up and running!
> 
> I'll slow down the updates when the buffer chapters are like 5/6, until then, y'all are getting weeklies! Hooray!
> 
> (I also can't resist the urge to post just cuz)

**_II: Voice of the Priestess_ **

_High Priestess: Intuition, Unconscious, Inner Voice_

_Reversed High Priestess: Lost Inner Voice, Repressed Intuition, Confusion, Cognitive Dissonance_

* * *

Yuuki is even worse after the July’s Full Moon operation.

He’s not talking to Yukari at all, that’s one thing. He’s avoiding physical contacts, to the point that even _Sanada_ , who’s known as the least capable at noticing social cues, is starting to notice, that’s another.

He’s not as reckless in Tartarus, still mindful not to hurt himself. He still talks to them (yes, _except_ to her, somehow) just fine, he still smiles – although it’s less, from her point of view – and he still engages in some social outings with his friends.

But he’s _actively_ avoiding physical contacts with _anyone_ and _everyone_.

“Fuuka,” She says as she joins the navigator in the lounge. When she hears the girl hums, she continues, a frown forming on her face. “What’s wrong with Yuuki-kun?”

“I don’t know,” She says, her voice concerned. As if on cue, the person in question walks in through the door, alone. There are definitely bags under his eyes as he blinks slowly at them. Fuuka is quick to greet him. “Welcome back, Yuuki-kun. Are you… okay?”

“…Just tired,” He replies with a loud yawn. “Been pulling some all-nighters.”

Oh, yeah. _Exams_.

“Please rest well,” Fuuka says. Yuuki simply nods (while avoiding eye contact with her all the way) before trudging up the steps. Once he is gone, the navigator turns to her. “He really is avoiding you, huh, Yukari-chan?”

“Yeah,” She mumbles, tapping her knee lightly. She couldn’t quite figure out why _exactly_ , although... “I think I have an idea, but I’m not too sure.”

“…Uh,” Fuuka begins, a little pensive. Yukari turns to her, tilting her head slightly. The navigator pauses for a bit before she clears the throat. “I know this might be a rather sensitive topic, and the others didn’t seem to have notice this yet, but um… what happened during the Full Moon Operation?”

That gives Yukari a long, painful pause.

Her hands unconsciously rub at her throat, the feeling of his hands gripping down on it still linger. She remembers coming out of the bath dazed, only to be shocked back to reality hard when he _screamed_ , and that was the most heart-wrenching sound she’s ever heard. She winces as she continues to recall the events — after that, she tries to talk him out of it, but—

“—But then he whirled around, snatched my neck, and started strangling me,” She finishes her thought, her voice raw.

“…That explained the bruises, then,” Fuuka says slowly, an uncharacteristic frown on her face. “He was under control, right? How did you—?”

“I didn’t,” She answers the unfinished question as she forces her hands back down to her lap, her eyes lingering on the dark staircases. “He snapped out of it himself, and he _cut his leg open_ to stop his body from doing anything else.”

“…Oh.”

She remembers the feeling of her windpipe being crushed, of her life slowly being forced out of her. It wasn’t his fault, but during all of that, she realized that she was _afraid_ of him. He must’ve noticed, because he shot down her attempt to reassure him with such _anger_ in his eyes — anger that wasn’t pointed at her.

He was furious at _himself._

“Have you tried talking to him?” Fuuka asks.

“Yeah, but… he’s keeping me at arm’s length, all the time,” She murmurs. “I want—I _need_ to apologize.”

She has to. Her fear is—

“You were afraid of him, back then,” Fuuka says as she puts her hand on Yukari’s shoulder, squeezing gently in reassurance. When she opens her mouth, the other girl interrupts her. “It’s normal, you know. Even if you know he’s being manipulated into doing that, there’s no way you couldn’t have felt _fear_.”

“I know,” She murmurs, looking down at her hands as she puts them together. “I know, but still, I have to let him know that it wasn’t his fault. And that I’m not afraid anymore.”

“ _How_ would be a problem, huh…” Fuuka muses.

“…Yeah.”

How would be a problem, but he has to know.

She’s seeing the signs of him slowly breaking from the inside, and she can’t allow that to happen to him, _especially_ not because of her.

It’s not his fault. None of it is.

* * *

That night, she wakes up at an ungodly hour of _3 am_ just because.

…And she couldn’t go back to sleep.

With a disgruntled groan, she gets up and pads her way down to the kitchen, in hope that she might be able to go back to sleep if she can have herself a warm cup of milk.

When she reaches the kitchen, she’s slightly taken aback by the state of it — the water is being warmed up, there is a waterless cup on the table, and she could hear the faint voice of a random program on the TV from the lounge. Curious, she quietly pads her way towards the noise—

“Yuuki-kun?” She calls softly. He doesn’t turn right away, his focus solely on his clasped hands, his body rocking back and forth a little. He blinks a few times before looking up at her.

It takes a while, but he replies—with a small nod.

She frowns. “You haven’t talked to me since…”

 _Since you tried to strangle me_.

He hums, but refuses to utter a word. And that really ticks her off.

She was about to snap at him, but the longer she looks at him, the less she wants to. Even with the darkness of the lightness room, he’s _pale_. His lips are pursed into a tense line, his shoulders hunched, the bags under his eyes even more prominent. And he’s sweating _bullets_ , his shirt sticking to his frame from all the perspiration.

“…Nightmares?” She tries again, still not leaving the spot she’s standing, for fear that he might run away.

He seems to unconsciously flex his fingers, curling them over his own knuckles. Yuuki forces out a sigh before nodding, eyes closed. He presses his joint hands against his forehead and breathes.

Then Yukari realizes… that he’s not having just nightmares; he’s _reliving_ them.

She tries to walk to him, but his immediate, maybe even thoughtless, reaction is to scoot away.

It pains her to see that. If she hadn’t been so afraid of him then, he might not have chosen to shut himself away like he is now. She hears his breath (it’s ragged. She just realizes that it’s ragged) hitches slightly, so she backs away. He relaxes at that, and it takes him maybe a few seconds to realize what he had just done, because he’s looking up at her, his eyes apologetic.

She only gives him a small smile (seeing him like this _hurts_ ) before pointing at the sofa opposite from him. “Can I sit there, then? I won’t get too close to you, I promise.”

He chews the inside of his cheek a little before nodding.

She briefly checks the fridge and grabs a can of coke before slowly walking over, mindful of his reaction. When she is sure he won’t flinch, she sits down opposite from him, the coffee table between them.

The silence stretches, and she feels the urge to do something to get rid of it, but she couldn’t. In the end, all she does is drinking from her can while Yuuki just mindlessly flipping through the channels. After a while, he gives up and turns off the TV, eliminating the last source of white noises from the room.

She just looks at him. He looks so… _small_. Fragile. It seems like this isn’t the first time he’s down here at such an ungodly hour, either. And she doesn’t like this. This is her fault, not his. With a determined nod to herself, she inhales and speaks up, “Yuuki-kun, whatever happened isn’t your fault—”

“Isn’t it?” He chokes out, his voice hoarse. He isn’t looking at her eyes, but at her throat. The pain is all gone now, but the bruises are there still…

“It isn’t—”

“ _Isn’t it?_ ” He repeats, his voice but a whisper. There is something behind his voice, something that’s tearing at her heart, something that shouldn’t have been there at all.

The voice inside her is urging her to stop, that doing this, that if she pushes this wrong, harder than she should, she would cause more harm than good. She shoves the voice away and speaks a bit louder than she had originally intended. “It is _not!_ Would you please _shut up_ for a second and _listen!?_ ”

He flinches, biting his lower lip hard enough to split it. She ignores that.

“You were under control!” She snaps, finally having enough. The voice is nagging at her harder to slow down a little more, but she chooses to ignore it still. “It wasn’t your fault that your body moved on its own! This is _not_ your fault, so would you please _shut up already!?_ ”

Instead of coming to his senses or whatever else she is expecting, she hasn’t expected him to curl up and _cry_.

“Yuuki-kun, I…” She stammers, unsure of what to do. She doesn’t even know why he’s like that. “I’m sorry, that was—”

“ _Please, stop_ ,” He chokes out a broken sob as he curls into himself, hugging his arms and digging his nails into them. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I…”

He’s apologizing for something that isn’t his fault at all, like he’s afraid, his voice so soft and so broken as he keeps saying _sorry_. Again, and again, and again, like a broken record.

And all Yukari could do is watch. Whatever she did trigger something in him she shouldn’t have.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

_But you did. You fail to take into account his current state and push all the buttons available, when you could’ve handled it better, **much** better. _

_And look at what you did._

_You’re breaking a broken person further._

She couldn’t really argue with that.

* * *

She should’ve been more careful with what she said.

The change is immediately noticeable following the next few days of that night.

He still attends classes, still talks, but he’s not even _trying_ to smile. He’s avoiding her even harder, to the point that everyone in the dorm is starting to ask questions. He’s reverting back, and it’s her fault—

“Takeba,” Kirijou says as she knocks on her door, jolting her out of her thoughts. She blinks stupidly for a while before opening the door, to be greeted by both Kirijou and Fuuka.

“Um…” She begins, uncertain of what to do. She has an inkling of why they’re here, but…

“There’s something I’d like to tell you,” Kirijou says, her voice still flat, bit there’s concern in them. When she looks up in confusion, she clarifies. “I and Yamagishi have been talking about the… recent changes in Yuuki’s behavior. While you might or might not have anything to do with it, his responses are _not_ normal.”

“What do you… mean?” She asks, eyeing Fuuka as the other girl gives her an apologetic smile.

“We did a little more background checks, and while we found nothing of note at first, one thing stuck out.”

She thinks she knows. She has a little idea of what it could’ve been, ever since she ignores that tiny voice, but she still went through with what she did despite that. Yukari resists the urge to run and murmurs, “What is it?”

“There was a period, around four years back, where there are records of him… visiting the children psyche ward.”

She heart sinks.

“Takeba, Yuuki is a known Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder sufferer.”

She tries to suppress a sob threatening to rip its way out of her throat as she puts both hands over her mouth. She couldn’t breathe.

Then all those avoidances, his anger, his reactions—

She just made it worse, because she doesn’t—no, because she _refuses_ to understand.

“Oh… god.”

“Yukari-chan,” Fuuka says, pulling her into a hug as she’s frozen stiff still. The girl just keeps hugging her tight, a hand patting her back. “It isn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known that.”

_Isn’t it?_

His broken voice rings through her head, as she’s now in the same position that he was. Logically, she knows it isn’t entirely her fault, that while she could’ve done better, there’s no way she could’ve known what her actions would cause, and yet…

_Isn’t it?_

* * *

Even Junpei dares not tread on whatever thin ice is circling Yuuki.

The exams days slowly fly by, and the air around him is frigid cold. He just stops speaking to everyone else altogether, maybe replying with a word or two when prompted for more than twice. She doesn’t know about the others, but every time he looks at her, she could see _fear_ in his eyes, and that squeezes and tugs at her heart even more.

It must’ve been how he’s felt when she stared at him during the Full Moon.

And when it’s time to leave for Yakushima, by whatever god there is, she’s stuck sitting right next to him during their van ride towards the harbor, and she could feel the girls’ eyes on her, especially Fuuka.

She gives them a strained smile before settling down, careful not to brush Yuuki’s arm as he looks out the window with a constant scowl on his face, his earphones blasting music at max volume. She thinks he might be trying to drown out something, but she doesn’t know what. She just watches him for a while longer before coming to terms with her fate and goes about watching the scenery.

When they arrive, they slowly pull their belongings out of the back of the van. The boat they are going to use will arrive in maybe ten minutes, so they aren’t in that much of a hurry.

Yukari is surprised when he hands her her bag. She blinks stupidly a few times before taking it from his arms, still careful not to touch him, and murmurs. “Thanks.”

He only nods before going back to unloading the bags.

“Man,” Junpei murmurs from beside her as they watch Yuuki unloading, no one (not even Kirijou) dares to get close. After a pause, he continues. “…This sucks.”

“You _think?_ ” She half-growls at him, clenching her hands into fists. “It’s my fault, and I don’t know how to _fix it_.”

“Yukari-cchi,” He begins, a careful hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t know. You tried to help him. It ain’t your fault.”

“Isn’t it, though?” She breathes, feeling a twinge in her heart as she repeats the words he spoke to her. She knows she is not entirely to blame, but her heart is not letting that go. She lets out a broken laugh before murmuring. “This must be how Yuuki-kun felt, huh…?”

“I’d think so,” He says, pulling his hand away. “At least… I think he’s just afraid, is all. I’m sure he’ll come around. The guy’s tough, after all.”

“I hope so, too.”

* * *

The wind feels nice against her skin.

The trip would take maybe an hour, so she’s got some time to forget about things (she also tries to ignore Junpei grilling Yuuki about not having a swimsuit on him). She shakes her head again, focusing her eyes on the waves as they crash against each other. The sounds of seagulls and the parting ocean soothing her nerves somewhat.

She ignores the sound of footsteps approaching, keeping her eyes on the horizon. She isn’t even sure what she’s supposed to do, but she’d take Fuuka’s advice and tries to wind down as much as she could. There’s no point running head-first into things if she’s going to end up worsening the situation again.

But then someone calls her, making her freezes on the spot.

“Takeba.”

Yuuki’s voice is soft, pensive, and a little broken. She turns to see him standing not too far, but out of her reach, with hands in pockets and the earphones on his ears. Her brain crashes for a few seconds before she stammers out. “Uh… can I help you?”

“Can we talk?”

Just three words. It’s the three words that she hasn’t though possible for Yuuki to say after more than week-long silence, and his pained expression and the way he tenses up while speaking to her is just… not helping.

“…Sure,” She murmurs, keeping a close eye on him.

He walks over, seemingly watchful of her actions as he makes his way towards the railing two steps away from her. He places his arms on the railing and lets his head tip forward slightly, his eyes glued to the white foams that keep forming and disappearing. Yukari could only look at him as he works his jaw, her attempts at initiating conversation fail even before they get the chance to start.

Then, he murmurs, “How’s…?”

He just cuts himself off, but he’s looking at her with creases between his brows, his hand lightly touching his own throat. She unconsciously mimics his action, and it takes her a moment to formulate an answer inside her head. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He just looks at her with relief in his expression as he nods, turning his gaze back towards the distant sea. “…That’s good.”

She wants to apologize, to say that she’s sorry, but that little voice is saying that she shouldn’t do that… and she’d be an idiot if she brushes the voice off this time. Instead, she just lets the silence blankets them for a while longer.

She opens her mouth a few times, only to shoot her own questions down, again and again. In the end, she only manages out a meager, “How are you?”

He would usually answer with a _“fine”_ or something along that line in a heartbeat. This time, however, he doesn’t reply right away, taking a moment to bite on his own tongue.

After a while, he says quietly. “Couldn’t sleep.”

That’s better than she had hoped. “Nightmares?”

For the first time in nearly two weeks, he _smiles_ , no matter how painful or dry it looks. He closes his eyes and exhales. “Flashbacks.”

She winces. “You mean when you…”

“That,” He nods in confirmation, his hands trembling slightly. She wants to hold them, but she knows she shouldn’t. But then, he continues. “And… the times from when I was younger.”

“…I won’t pry,” She says quietly, tugging the stray strands of hair back behind her ear. “But if you want someone to talk about it… I’ll be there.”

“Okay,” He says with a small smile. “Thank you.”

The pause is not as heavy as the last one, and she’ll take it. She wants to ask questions, to pry more, to force him to open up, but she knows that’s not the way to handle things. He’s been through more than she knows, so at the very least, she should let him set his own pace.

To her surprise, she doesn’t have to wait long, but to her horror, the direction the topic is going is _not_ something she could ever hope to be able to brace her heart for.

“I have killed people before, you know.”

“…What?”

He just gives her a broken smile before he stands up straight, his hands on his side – she catches a glimpse of something under his watch, but she isn’t sure what. His skin is slightly reddened, but—

He looks up at the sky and closes his eyes before walking away, leaving her alone to her thoughts once more.

* * *

That revelation about her father is breaking down her world into a thousand pieces, and she’s already at the beach before she knows it.

She couldn’t stop shaking. She couldn’t stop thinking about all his love (his _lies_ ), and before she could do anything, the sobs are already threatening their ways up her throat. She chokes them back down, but she fails to reign in her tears as they start to collect at the corner of her eyes.

She registers slow, soft footsteps from behind her. She isn’t really surprised – running off like this must’ve worried them, and they’re sending someone to get her.

“I’m fine,” She murmurs, hugging herself harder. “I’ll be fine, I’ll go back when I’m ready.”

Whoever it is just takes a few steps closer, standing only a few meters away from her. The sound stops, and the only thing surrounding them is the sound of the crashing waves.

After a while, he speaks, “I’m here.”

She whirls around to see Yuuki looking at her with a small, sad smile. They stare at each other for a while before she tears her eyes away, returning them to the dark sea before her.

“…I believed in him for so long… this is _too much_ …!”

She won’t cry. She _can’t_ —not now, not in front of anyone.

“Do you remember… what I told you at the hospital? How my dad died when I was little?” She murmurs, hands fisting the hem of her shirts. She doesn’t wait for him to answer, however. “You understand now, right? He died in that incident. There were lots of rumors, because no one knows the truth. He was in charge of the research team, so people were… really not kind towards me and mom. We even have to move a few times.”

He doesn’t say anything, instead walking a bit closer until he’s standing beside her. She looks up at his eyes, to see the kind, gentle light she has never have the chance to witness before. He only smiles, staying silent. But his actions convey enough; _If you want to, you can talk to me._

She inhales. “All this time, I kept telling myself that it wasn’t his fault. I really loved him, you know? And I… believed that he’d never do anything wrong. Even the letter I got in spring… it was all about me, even though he wrote _‘to my family’_ on it, it made me believe in him even more. Because of those, when I found out I can fight, I cooperated with the Kirijou Group to find out about my father.”

She digs her nails into her palms.

“It turns out, that was all for _nothing_.”

“…Anything that has already happened, is always a good thing.”

“…Huh?”

“It’s a phrase I heard from someone long ago,” He murmurs, keeping his eyes on the horizon. She watches, a bit of anger bubbling in her throat, but it feels like there’s something she needs to hear, so she listens. He closes his eyes briefly before looking up at the crescent moon. “Nothing happened without a reason, and the thing that did, even if it looked grim and bleak… might turn out to be either a good lesson, or even a good thing.”

“What’s this, you trying to cheer me up?” She says with a broken laugh. “You suck.”

“I tried,” He whispers.

She turns to look at him fully, and he returns her gaze with is own. The warm, gentle smile on his feature is making her heart flutters, but she ignores it. Instead, she mumbles. “Reality is really harsh. I tried so hard to fight my fear, and _this_ is all I got… maybe that’s why I’m jealous of Kirijou-senpai. I mean, why _my_ father, and not _hers?_ ”

She pauses.

When Yuuki says nothing, she doesn’t really know what to do. “I’m a horrible person, aren’t I?”

For the first time in forever, he _chuckles_. It’s the closest thing to a laugh she’s ever heard. He then shakes his head. “No. That’s just how people are, Takeba.”

“…You really are Mr. Perfect, huh? Nothing seems to faze you. It’s like you’re trying to tell me what to feel when you don’t know _anything!_ ”

And she immediately regrets saying that.

 _A lot of things_ do, she’s seen that first hand. Why would her mouth have to be so quick to snap and snark, when all he’s been doing is listening to and comforting her? Is it not enough to send him into a few panic attacks and flashback episodes, reminding him of his own traumas?

She bites back the shame crawling up to the tip of her tongue. “I’m sorry. I—”

He simply shakes his head again. “It’s okay. I know.”

“…I’m scared,” She finally admits, to him, to herself. Her voice is breaking, and her tears are coming out, but she just couldn’t care anymore. “I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do…!”

“It’s okay to be scared,” He says, his voice firm, pulling her out of her own helplessness. She looks as he keeps his eyes on hers. After a moment, he walks a bit closer, his eyes mindful of her movements. She doesn’t move, so he comes face-to-face with her. “Not knowing what to do is normal. Look at me; I don’t know what I’m doing half the time.”

She laughs a little at that. “Is that so? You really are one of a kind, Yuuki-kun.”

“I know,” He smiles before opening his arms slightly.

Yukari just blinks. He’s… offering her a hug.

Even though he doesn’t like being touched, even though he’s been avoiding everyone for the past two weeks, even after she’s hurt him... when she needs it most, _he_ is offering _her_ a hug.

She walks closer, unsure, before she stops a few centimeters from his chest. After a moment of hesitation, she leans in and puts her arms around him, pressing her ear against his chest, listening to his beating heart. He holds her in a kind embrace, patting her head softly.

She allows herself to cry.

“Thank you…! And I’m sorry…!”

“I’m here,” He says again, his voice soft and soothing as she holds him tighter still. “I’ll be here whenever you need me to, Takeba.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the voice hums.

 _This is how it should be_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... a bit on a hurt/comfort side, but hey! Ain't that a good thing? :D
> 
> Then, till next time!


	4. III: The Empty Empress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…Nothing,” He says quietly, his eyes widening slightly in realization. “I’m feeling… nothing.”
> 
> Kirijou is giving him a look as she finally and carefully places her hand on his knee. He could feel the warmth of her hand, the weight she’s pressing his knee with. He could feel his body as it twitches a little, listless. He could feel his chest constricts. He could feel his breath hitches.
> 
> But his mind is feeling nothing. No joy, no fear, no sadness, nothing.
> 
> It’s empty. He’s empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a problem.
> 
> I, on average, am spitting out 3 chapters a week, and I'm only maybe 5-6 chapters away from the ending? Yeah, that. So, extra chapter for you all just because XD
> 
> 22 Arcanas, 26 chapters. I wonder what the extra ones are ;)
> 
> Alright, don't let me keep ya!

**_III: The Empty Empress_ **

_Empress: Motherhood, Fertility, Nature_

_Reverse Empress: Dependence, Emptiness, Insecurities, Overbearing, Indulgence_

* * *

He still couldn’t get rid of the nightmares.

But… at least it’s less during nighttime now, so Makoto supposes it’s a good thing.

What’s more surprising, however, is the fact that he wakes up from his bad dream to see _Aigis_ , of all people, standing over his bed. _In his room!_

It takes him a second before he springs up and headbutts her so hard that he recoils and sees white for a solid minute.

“Ow, ow, _ow…_ ”

“Makoto-san! Are you okay?” The android asks, tilting her head slightly. He puts up a hand, the other cradling and rubbing at his forehead. That reaction is… really a bit over the top, but he forgot that _she_ is _not_ made of flesh and blood, so in the end the only one ending up with an injury is him.

“I’m fine,” He groans, rubbing at the sore spot. He blinks until the blacks dancing across his visions are gone before he continues in a low voice. “…Why the hell are you in my room?”

“Yuuki-kun? Did you see Aigis?”

As if on cue (the comedic timing is just _perfect_ ), Takeba knocks on his door and twists the handle open. The three of them just look at each other, before Takeba flushes and points at Aigis. “ _Why_ are _you_ in here, Aigis!? This is unlawful entry, and it’s against dorm’s regulation!”

He just cuts out the rest of the conversation from his senses, still confused and perhaps doesn’t care enough to listen. He just gives an offhand comment before Takeba forcefully pulls Aigis out of his room and closes the door behind her.

He takes a moment before getting up and opening his drawer, pulling out three small pills containers, the white labels still sharp. He sighs. He really hates his “condition”, as the doctor labelled it, but the contents of his nightmares and the frequencies of both his panic episodes and flashbacks are getting ridiculous, to the point of almost making him _scream_ in the middle of their vacation at Yakushima. He shivers at the thoughts.

He’s just glad they have psychiatric department at the hospital.

Before he gets anywhere with anything, the door of his room swings open again (do people here not care about _privacy?_ ) and Takeba walks back in, still heaving slightly. He just stares at her, then at the containers in his hands, then at her again as she stares back. After a moment, where she still hasn’t said a thing, he says, a bit annoyed. “Why are _you_ in my room?”

“Huh? Oh! Uh, I forgot to mention,” She quickly mumbles out, a bit embarrassed. “Um, I meant to tell you that, you know… I can accompany you… if you want.”

“To where?” He says with a slight frown.

“The hospital.”

He pauses. Well, he already knows that she knows about his PTSD, but he has never said anything about going to the psychiatrist to anyone. But then again, this isn’t the first time Takeba has been strangely perceptive of him.

He only offers her a small smile before shaking his head. “It’s fine. I can go by myself.”

_I don’t want anyone else to see._

“Okay, then…” She slowly retraces her steps out of the room. “See you at school?”

“Mhm,” He mumbles. “See you.”

When she’s out, and he’s left with the deafening silence again, he looks down at the bottles of pills and starts pouring out its content into his hands. He traces their outlines, feels their textures, and just plays with them rolling between his fingertips until his racing heart has calmed down somewhat. He exhales, then, in one swift motion, puts the pills inside his mouth and swallows.

He _hopes_ that this would help, because he doesn’t like the feelings of helplessness and seeing the flashbacks of the things that he should’ve forgotten a long, long time ago. He doesn’t want to relive those moments.

He doesn’t want to feel anything.

* * *

He doesn’t dream anymore.

That doesn’t mean taking all the antidepressants to take care of the nightmares are risk-free, though.

“Yuuki, are you sure you’re going to be alright?”

Kirijou asks, her arms crossed over her chest. She’s called him for a private chat, and he really doesn’t want to get watched this closely. He’s told her about the drugs, yes, but to think that the side effects would actually be noticeable during the Dark Hour…

“I’ll be fine, I won’t jeopardize the party’s safety,” He says flatly as he tries to suppress the restlessness he’s feeling. He hates akathisia, and to think he’d draw the short end of the stick and get that as _one of the symptoms_. He inwardly sighs. “I might be a little restless, but I’m not tired. I can fight, and I can think straight.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kirijou murmurs, looking straight at him. It takes Makoto a moment to realize that she’s concerned not about his performance, but about _him_ , in particular. He shakes his leg a little to get rid of the little tingling feelings as she continues. “I know you’re trying your hardest to make sure you can fight, but _please_ , take care of your mental state, too.”

“The drugs are doing that for me,” He says, tilting his head.

“Are they truly?”

He pauses. He doesn’t dream. The side effects are also easy to ignore, especially when adrenalines are replacing them. What else could she have meant? “Yes. I don’t have nightmares. I don’t have any flashbacks—”

“That’s _not_ what I meant,” She repeats herself, stressing the word again. It looks like she wants to put her hand on his knee, but she thinks better of it and pulls the hand back. After a long-suffering sigh, she murmurs. “It’s not about the dreams, Yuuki. Let me rephrase my question; _how are you feeling_?”

How is he feeling? He’s a bit restless (because of the damn drugs) and a little jittery, from time to time. But he’s fine, he can move however he wants. His jaws would clamp up, sometimes, making them a bit painful when taking a bite out of something hard. But that was it, he doesn’t feel anything—

He’s feeling—

“…Nothing,” He says quietly, his eyes widening slightly in realization. “I’m feeling… _nothing_.”

Kirijou is giving him a look as she finally and carefully places her hand on his knee. He could feel the warmth of her hand, the weight she’s pressing his knee with. He could feel his body as it twitches a little, listless. He could feel his chest constricts. He could feel his breath hitches.

But his mind is feeling _nothing_. No joy, no fear, no sadness, _nothing_.

It’s empty. _He’s_ empty.

“I—” He tries, but he couldn’t think of anything as he digs his own nails into his palms, turning his knuckles white. He’s disconnected from his own emotions.

 _Oh_ , a tiny voice in his head proclaims as he screws his eyes shut and hugs himself. He faintly feels Kirijou moving in a bit closer and pulling him into a hug, but his thoughts are too haywire to fully care about it.

 _I’m dissociating_.

* * *

Two things happened.

One, he’s forced to go to the psychiatrist for therapy sessions three times a week. That’s the easy part.

The other thing is the hard one; Kirijou said he _must_ bring someone else with him _at least_ for the first few times.

This is just great.

Today is the first day of his many appointments, and he has to wonder who he’ll bring with. He doesn’t want anyone to see him like that, but he supposes that it’s too late now; if Kirijou’s issuing that kind of order, it means that _everyone_ must at least have an idea of what’s going on. He doesn’t like it, but then again, he thinks this is better than him trying to deal with whatever it is on his own.

He sighs to himself and leans against the backrest of his chair, eyes looking up at the ceiling. He isn’t sure who he should be asking to accompany him. He doesn’t want to burden Kirijou more than he already is. Sanada is… it could turn out to be either a good thing or a disaster, so it’s a gamble. He isn’t close with Yamagishi, and bothering someone who has to keep tabs on them during the Dark Hour all the time already is just cruel. He’s now left with either Junpei or Takeba.

…Takeba, huh?

“Takeba,” He calls quietly, partly hoping that she’s not here, so he might not have to think about it.

But then, she hums, and he looks down to see her leaning over the backrest of her chair, her brown eyes looking intensely at him. He flinches a little as she cocks her head to the side. “What is it?”

He slowly forms the answer in his head, weighs it, then speaks it aloud. “Does the offer still stand?”

It takes Takeba a few moments to actually recognize what he meant. He doesn’t really blame her, since it looks to him like she spoke about that on the fly. But then her eyes widen, and she promptly nods at him, an understanding look on her face. “Yes.”

“Are you free today?” He continues. A part of him hopes that she isn’t, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to get away with going there alone. But another part wishes that she’d be there.

“What time is the appointment?” She asks as she pulls out her phone. He blinks stupidly as she scrolls down the contact list.

“Uh… 5.30 pm,” He replies, still looking at her, confused. “What are you doing?”

“I’m telling the girls from archery club I’ll make up another day,” She says.

“Hold on, wait, you don’t have to—”

“Yuuki-kun,” She cuts him off, and he swallows back whatever he is going to say at the intensity of her gaze as she looks at him in the eyes. He wants to look away, but he’s glued to the spot. She puts down her phone and says, loud enough for him to hear clearly, but not enough to reach anyone else’s ears. “I _want_ to do this, so shut up.”

“…Okay,” He nods, and lets out the breath he was holding. 

There’s a short pause, where she just taps away at her phone, sending SMS, while he remains there, unsure of what to do or feel.

He’s still dissociating slightly, somehow, and that really irks him. He suppresses the urge to sigh at his stupid mind for not doing what it’s supposed to do. He’s like a damaged good that’s still good enough for some things, but a burden and an unfortunate baggage on the others more than half the time.

Well, the best he could do for now is to _try_ to fix that.

“So,” Takeba murmurs, snapping him out of his thoughts. He tilts his head slightly, and she continues in a low voice. “How many times a week, and when?”

“…You don’t have to come every time—”

“I just told you I _want_ to help,” She snaps, cutting him off completely. “Just tell me. Of course I’m not going to make it every time, but at least let me sent you to the station whenever I can, okay?”

He chews on his own tongue until he could taste blood and steel, the foul smell reaching his nose. He grunts at himself and works his jaw for a bit before reaching inside his bag and pulling out a small pocket book. He searches the contents for a while before he finds his assigned sessions and just shows it to her. She looks at it, then up at his face.

“That’s a lot.”

“Yes,” He mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? This isn’t your fault, you know,” She says, tapping the dates down into her phone. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling, but it’s not a bad thing, so he lets it slide. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s going to take. If it helps, then it helps, right?”

“I guess,” He says. When she’s done, he puts the book back where it was. “So… meet you where?”

“We’re in the same class, you _idiot_ ,” She says, pushing at his forehead, eliciting a yelp out of him. He rubs at the sore spot (that’s the same place he headbutted Aigis with, too) as she says with a slight frown. “We can go there together. If I have to go somewhere first, I’ll tell you.”

“…Okay.”

* * *

She’s unusually quiet during their train ride.

He has thought that she might begin asking questions, given how lively and talkative she usually is. Much to his surprise, she isn’t saying anything, only commenting on maybe the weather, or the wait time for their train. He doesn’t mind the silence much, but it’s still strange to see Takeba being mindful and wordless like she is.

The train ride to Port Island station is unusually serene, even by _his_ standard. There aren’t that many people around, so they have the seats to themselves. He’s sitting in the middle, with Takeba right next to him. He glances at her, to see that she’s hugging her own bag to her chest, with her knees firmly pressed together, as if afraid of brushing his.

He looks out the window, at the ocean as it glistens in the afternoon sun. After a while, he murmurs, maybe a bit too quietly. “Thank you.”

He could feel her eyes on him, and for a moment he thinks he might’ve earned himself a slap. In the end, all he gets is a warm smile he rarely sees from her. “You’re welcome.”

They don’t say much else for a while as the train glides along the rail, rattling ever so slightly. Unfortunately for him, his MP3 is dead (he forgot to charge the thing, damnit), so the usual company of his music is gone. But, to be fair, he really doesn’t mind it much. It wasn’t like the songs are going to help against the hollowness in his chest or the sense of detachment, anyways.

“Say,” She begins, drawing his attention to her. Her eyes are looking at his hands, and his gaze follows. He’s not trembling. “How are things?”

He opens his mouth, about to say that everything’s all well and good…

…But the look on her face is saying that if he dares lie like he plans to, he’s really going to get his ass handed to him.

He takes some time to rearrange his thoughts before answering, a bit unsure. “I… don’t know.”

“You don’t know? What do you mean by that?”

He frowns. “It’s… weird, I guess. There are no more dreams, but… I don’t feel anything. I _can’t_.”

She takes a good, long look at him before turning to the window, her mouth presses into a thin line. She then says quietly. “When did that start?”

“After Yakushima,” He mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Not sure exactly when, but I think… maybe after I started the medications.”

“I… see,” She pauses before saying slowly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not now,” He replies instantly, shaking his head. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Okay,” Takeba says, looking him straight in the eyes. “I’ll be here. Just tell me if you need anything, I’ll listen.”

“That’s one thing I don’t understand about you,” He says, playing with the MP3 on his neck.

“What thing?”

“We aren’t even _that_ close. Why are you doing all of this?” _For me?_

She smiles slightly. “Because you look like you need it. Is that not enough a reason to stay?”

 _Not usually_ , he thinks, but dares not voice it. Instead, he settles for a small smile, and lets himself relaxes into his seat as he murmurs.

“Thanks.”

“As I said, you’re welcome.”

* * *

He _hates_ it.

He hates reliving the memories, he hates the psychiatrist for bringing it up over and over like a _fucking machine_. He hates experiencing _drowning_ and breaking and _screaming_ all over again.

He slams the door open and stomps his way through the hallways, ignoring the calls from the therapist as he feels himself falling apart. He can’t do this, he just _can’t_. If he’s pushed one more time, he’s going to feel his fingers around a person’s neck again, he’s going to feel that person’s life ebbing away through _his_ fingertips as he squeezes the life out of—

He chokes and stops mid-way, hands over his own chest as his heart beats loudly, thumping inside his skull, pumping adrenaline through his systems. He’s shaking, again, and again, and again, and he doesn’t know how to stop it as he’s feeling nothing and _everything_ , all at once.

“Yuuki-san,” Someone calls, and he turns to see the nurse who was with him in the office. She’s reaching out, a hand mere inch from his skin. “Please, calm down—”

“ _How?_ ” He gasps out, his voice broken as he trembles. He could feel the water washing down his windpipe, forcing his throat to close off, cutting off his only way to breathe. He punches his chest until he could breathe again and pants, trying to regain some _control_ over himself. “How am I supposed to do that when all I’m feeling is water in my lungs and thumping in my head!?”

She pulls back, her expression neutral. But there it is in her eyes – fear. She’s _afraid of him_.

_You’re a monster! Get away from me!_

“Yuuki-san,” She says again, and he flinches away from her hand as soon as it touches him.

“Get away from me!” He snarls, feeling like he’s boxed in. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _think_. He shakes her hand away again and screams, panicked and terrified. “Get the _fuck_ away from me!”

“Hey, what’s going on?” He hears Takeba from the distance, but his body isn’t listening to him anymore as he feels himself losing whatever sliver of restraint he has left.

He backs away until he hits something hard – a wall, maybe – with his hands grabbing at his arms and trying to force himself to calm down. He _needs_ to calm down, somehow, or he’s going to _hurt_ someone again, _just like all those years ago—_

“Yuuki-san—”

“I’m sorry!” He shouts out, to no one, to everyone, as his legs give out under him and he’s down to the ground. Everything’s falling apart. He can’t do this anymore. He doesn’t _want_ to. He doesn’t want to feel _anything_. “I can’t do this. I _can’t_ do this. Please, _please_ , make it _stop_.”

He doesn’t have any control. Why is he so damn weak? He wants to have a semblance of reign over his own life, but there’s nothing. He’s going insane, maybe, and it _scares_ him. He doesn’t want to be alone, he wants to have something _normal_ , to _be_ normal, to act normal, so he wouldn’t be casted aside and abandoned again.

He’s gasping, he’s shaking, he’s tearing the skin off his arms as he curls up, trying to disappear, maybe. He doesn’t know anymore. He doesn’t want to feel or think again. It hurts. He just wants the physical and mental pain to _stop—_

He faintly hears shouting from the distant, from the therapy room, maybe. Someone is really angry, but his mind refuses to focus on it. The nurse is still here, but she isn’t getting any closer. That’s good (no, it isn’t).

He doesn’t know how long he’s been staying there, in that position, and he doesn’t know what to do. He clenches his jaws, grinding his teeth so hard it _hurts_ , but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Pain. Pain is going to drag him back down to the earth and be normal. Maybe pain would help, like it did before. Blade on his skin, drawing blood and insanity out—

“Yuuki-kun,” He hears Takeba calls his name softly. He doesn’t look up, but he feels his muscles twitch and tense, ready to lash out. When she doesn’t do anything, he relaxes, even if it is only slightly.

He doesn’t answer with words (he can’t). Instead, he gives her a short hum, to acknowledge her presence.

He hears a small sigh. “Can I touch you?”

His breath hitches. He doesn’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. He grips his arms harder until he couldn’t feel his fingers as he tries to think. In the end, he nods.

“If you want me to pull away, just tell me, okay?”

He nods again.

Her fingers are callous, but her palm is soft. It’s warm, and it reminds him of something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. He feels himself slowly, but surely, relaxing further. His breathing is normal again, and the heartbeat he hasn’t fully realize was fast and frantic until now is stabilizing.

Her hand slowly presses against his, and she’s gently prying his fingers off his own arm. His fingertips are slightly wet — blood, a tiny voice in his head supplies — and they’re cold. Then, her fingers interlace with his own, spreading reassuring warmth all over his hand.

He lets out a long, shaky breath and uncurls himself a little, to see Takeba smiling at him. She puts her other hand over his own, sandwiching it, warming it up. It feels… nice. And it’s keeping him grounded.

“Do you want to move?” She asks softly.

He takes a moment to think. He then nods.

“Okay,” She murmurs. “I’m here.”

Slowly, a bit wobbly, he stands up. She helps pull him a little, but ultimately lets him have control. He finally gets to his feet, a bit unsure, his hand still in hers, the other one dangling at his side. He looks down, and sees her rubbing his knuckles with her fingers carefully. He likes the feeling.

She then tries to pull her hand away, and he instinctively squeezes on it, making her stop. He doesn’t want to let go.

She smiles. “I won’t let go, I promise. Just adjusting it so I can walk with you back to the dorm, okay?”

It takes him a full minute to ingest the information, and he nods again, relaxing his grip.

True to her words, she pulls back only to readjust, allowing her more freedom of movement. She leads him towards the lounge and picks up both of their belongings, snuggling them under her free arm. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to think, so he doesn’t question it and lets her guides him forward.

When they leave the hospital, it’s already dark out, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Instead, he focuses his attention of the feeling of her hand in his, and tightens his grip slightly, to make sure that what he’s feeling is real. He keeps his eyes there, and sees a slight twitch in her fingers, before she squeezes back carefully.

And then they are standing at the station, waiting for the train. He finally looks up at her, and she’s smiling at him, a bit sadly. He doesn’t question why it looks broken. She then shifts her arm slightly, before reaching her other hand up to his face and wiping away something wet.

“You were crying,” She whispers as she pulls back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He contemplates for a bit. “I don’t know.”

“Alright,” She hums. “Then tell me when you do.”

“Okay.”

“Are you feeling better?”

Thinking hurts, so he doesn’t. A tiny voice in his head is whispering that he’s still dissociating. He just accepts it as a fact. “I don’t know.”

Another sigh. “Are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Do you want to sleep?”

“No,” He answers a bit too quickly. His mind doesn’t want to. If he does, he might dream. Dreaming now is not a good thing.

“What do you want for dinner?”

He frowns. “Not hungry.”

“…A cup of hot chocolate, then?”

“Maybe.”

“Alright,” She hums again, and tugs at their joint hands as the train arrives. “We’ll start there.”

* * *

She doesn’t let go, even when they arrive.

He sees Kirijou and Yamagishi at the lounge, with someone he recognizes as Aragaki Shinjirou. He doesn’t pay them much mind as Takeba leads him towards the couch and sits him down.

She tries to pull her hand away, and again, he stops her.

“I’ll be gone only for a few minutes,” She whispers, her free hand cupping his chin and lifting his face up slightly. “We’re home, Yuuki-kun. I’ll be nearby, I promise, okay?”

He nods dumbly, and after a while, lets her hand go.

She leaves, but he could still hear her footsteps as she makes her way towards the kitchen. He’s trying to focus on something. In the end, he chooses to keep his mind occupied on the lingering feelings of her hand in his. He closes his eyes and leans slightly forward, fingers curling into the same position they were in before she pulled away.

“Takeba, what happened?” He hears Kirijou asks. Her voice is slightly surprised, and maybe a bit concerned.

Sound of the cupboard opening and closing. Takeba sounds… angry? “The psychiatrist is a jerk, is what. He had a panic attack there after fifteen minutes of his session.”

A pause. Then an angry male voice. “ _What_.”

“He’s still dissociating,” Takeba says. Sounds of the sink. Something falls. She curses a little. “Damn it.”

“I’ll look for a better psychiatrist right away,” Kirijou murmurs.

“I know a few,” Aragaki says. “They are some of the best ‘round here. Used to help me before.”

“Thank you, Shinjirou.”

“Don’t mention it,” He says. “Oi, Takeba, you two have dinner yet?”

“No, and he said he’s not hungry,” She replies. There is a set of footsteps coming towards him. He resists the urge to flinch. She sits next to him, her leg and his touching slightly. He doesn’t mind the feeling. A warm cup is then placed in his right hand, while she takes his left into hers again. “Here.”

“I ain’t listenin’,” Aragaki mutters. “I’m making you two dipshits dinner, end of story.”

“Shinjirou—”

“A good, warm meal will help,” He says. Voice is unusually kind. Reminds him of his father. “Trust me on this. Been there, done that.”

“…If you say so.”

“You two should go back to your rooms,” He says again, not pointing at him or Takeba. “Too many people now is a bad idea.”

“Alright,” Kirijou hums. “Goodnight, Yuuki, Takeba.”

“Um, goodnight, Yuuki-kun, Yukari-chan.”

“Night,” Takeba murmurs quietly.

He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He just nods his head and tips the content of the cup down his throat. It’s warm. It feels nice. He takes a few more sips before putting the cup down on his knee while his fingers idly play with the cup holder.

She’s tracing his hand with her fingertips, maybe a bit reluctant. They’re warm, and he doesn’t mind it at all.

“I’m here,” She says again, her other hand reaching up to his head and patting at his hair.

“…Okay.”

“Everything’s okay, Yuuki-kun,” She murmurs softly. He finds himself leaning in against her shoulder. She squeezes his hand a bit more. “It’s gonna be okay.”

For the first time that day, he relaxes fully.

He trusts her.

And if she says it’s going to be okay, then he’s going to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! A bit of Hurt-Comfort. Hope you guys like it!
> 
> Might update again on Saturday just because. I've almost finished The Moon (Arcana XVIII), that means I have like three Arcana left. XXI will be split into two parts, and then some extras. So, yeahhhhhhh, I can update twice a week and still have enough buffer chapters to cushion my ass lol
> 
> Alright, see ya soon, folk! Hopefully this weekend! :D


	5. IV: Stability of the Emperor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anyways," She says as her stomach growls, protesting her abuses of it. She grumbles. "I'm really hungry, and I'm thinking about a takeout, maybe… what do you want? And don't say whatever, because that's going to tick me off and I'm going to punch you."
> 
> He winces a little, but ultimately nods. After a while, he says, "Pizza?"
> 
> "Sounds good."
> 
> He's smiling at her again, warm and gentle and so, so soft.
> 
> She wishes she's just a tiny bit braver, and maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to acknowledge that her feeling's going beyond to being just friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extras! I did say the last one is an extra, so here we are :D
> 
> As always, don't let me keep you. A bit of some sappy shits, but hey, we all need those, yeah?

**_IV: Stability of The Emperor_ **

_Emperor: Stability, Authority, Control, Focus, Discipline, Practicality_

_Reversed Emperor: Tyrant, Rigidity, Lack of Discipline_

* * *

She wakes up with her head leaning against Yuuki's on the same couch she led him to the night before, their fingers still intertwined.

It's a good thing that it's Sunday, because it's already 9 am, when she looks at the clock.

His soft, rhythmic breathing tells her that he at least had a peaceful evening. She smiles and pulls a stray strand of hair out of his eyes and tugs it behind his ear. He looks so peaceful, a stark contrast from his breakdown yesterday, where he looked absolutely broken, frightened, and lost.

She really hates seeing him like that.

"Good morning," She hears a small voice from the kitchen, and turns to see Fuuka standing at the entrance with a small smile. She then gestures at the other side, as if asking for permission. Yukari thinks that's a bit weird, but she doesn't question it and just nods.

The girl carefully makes her ways towards the sofa and sits on it, a contemplative and slightly mischievous look on her face. Yukari doesn't quite understand that until her teal eyes land on their still jointed hands, and she immediately growls (quietly) at her. "Fuuka, you know I'm doing this to calm him down!"

"Oh, I know, I just think you two look cute together," She comments with a giggle. Yukari could feel her face heating up, but she couldn't find it in her to untangle her hand from his.

" _Fuuka!_ "

"I don't think even I can go that far for him," She comments, her smile a bit sad. "You're very patient and kind towards him, Yukari-chan."

"…It's cuz he needs it," She murmurs.

"Do you like him?"

"I— _what?_ " She gapes, thinking for a second that she might've misheard it.

"Do you like him, Yukari-chan?" Fuuka repeats herself.

She's about to deny it, but then backtracks. She… when she thinks about it, at first it's just guilt for pushing him over the edge the first time. But he's a really kind, really caring soul who's just been brought up and pushed into hell for almost a decade. She likes his company. When he's not breaking into pieces, he's caring in his own way, maybe a bit awkward, but infinitely patient.

…Still, that doesn't really mean she's thinking of him _that_ way… right? "I… don't know?"

"Oh come _on_ ," Fuuka pouts. "At least admit it to me. It's pretty clear you're head over heels."

"Fuuka, you really are an unrelenting tease, aren't you?" She mutters, her face uncomfortably hot. She's very embarrassed, and it's surprising that out of all people, it'd be _Fuuka_ who's teasing her. She'd expect something like this out of Junpei, not the navigator.

"Maybe. Anyways, shouldn't you wake him up?"

"I don't think that's such a good idea," She says, glancing at Yuuki again. He looks so serene like this, and she doesn't think waking someone who's just had a panic attack of that scale now is the best way to go about this. She sighs and tugs a bit of his hair back again. "I'll get him to his room when he's up."

"If you say so," She says. "What about breakfast?"

"Eh, I'll find something. The dinner Aragaki-senpai made yesterday's keeping me full, even now," She says with a smile. He looks scary, but he's the epitome of a _moe_ inside. His food is super tasty, too. "And thanks to his food, Yuuki-kun at least got to eat something. I don't think I've seen him eat anything much for a while now, so that's a good thing, I think."

"Then, see you later," Fuuka says, waving her hand slightly. "If you need anything, call me, okay?"

"'Kay," She mumbles. "Thanks."

Once Fuuka's gone, she returns her attention to the boy on her shoulder. He's relaxed, his breathing is steady. There are no more frowns on his face, and his shoulders are not squared like a caged animal. She only wishes that this would persist throughout the day.

Yesterday was… a disaster. When she went to check out the commotion, she didn't think she'd see Yuuki backed into a corner like that. And she soon found out why when she had a chat with the psychiatrist; that guy just didn't give a _shit_ about his traumas at all, and was trying to force him to do what he's told. Of course, that went so well that it brought him over the edge, and he had a breakdown right then and there.

It's a miracle that he listened to her like he did. And she's glad that she could help; seeing him like that – their fearless, calculating, calm, and even _cool_ leader in that state is heartbreaking. She could still feel the uneasiness when she had to witness him screaming and crying and curling into himself, as if to shut away all the pain in the world.

Her train of thoughts stops for a moment when he stirs, his hand squeezing over hers a little. He groans and shifts his head off of her shoulder before opening his eyes, a bit confused, but clearer than the night prior. She gives him a moment to adjust to the light, and when he turns to face her, she smiles. "Hey."

"…Morning," He mumbles, rubbing at his eyes. He still doesn't let go, and she really doesn't mind it (she pushes Fuuka's comment away, for now) so she lets him hogs her hand for a while longer. He blinks a few times before looking down. The way his face reddens is almost hilarious, and he stammers. "Uh, I'm sor—"

"It's alright," She stops him. "I don't mind."

"…Okay," He says, looking down at their hands again before giving hers a light squeeze. "And, uh… I'm sorry, about yesterday."

"It isn't your fault," She says, anger at that damn doctor bubbling up in her throat. She breathes and forces the feeling away. "I talked with Kirijou-senpai yesterday, and she's finding you a new one. Are you okay with trying again?"

"…Yeah," He murmurs weakly. His fingers are trembling, so she gives him a reassuring grasp. He smiles ever so slightly. "If you think I should, then I guess I will."

"I think you should," She confirms again. "Aragaki-senpai said he knows a few, so you'll be starting from there. I guess it's better than finding a new one from nothing."

"I guess."

She pauses a little. "Do you wanna do anything today?"

"No," His answer is almost immediate as he lets out a sigh. "I don't know what I want. Thinking still hurts a bit."

"I see," She murmurs. Then, "Want to go back to your room or something?"

"Maybe," He mutters. "I dunno. Staying like this is nice, but—"

"I don't mind," She quickly says before he has the chance to think otherwise.

He gives it a few more moments of thoughts before he hums, content. He squeezes her hand again, and smiles to himself. "Then… if you would."

"Sure," She says with a smile. "I'll stay here."

* * *

After a while, they move to his room.

And somehow, she's following him in there.

She doesn't really mind, though; unlike Junpei, he's a straight gentleman. He wouldn't have so much as look at her wrong if she'd asked him not to. And since her touch calms him down, she thinks it's a good idea to help him some more…

…Well, maybe it's also to stay close to him a bit longer (curse you, Fuuka), but at this point, she just doesn't care anymore.

They're sitting on his bed, their fingers still intertwined. The silence is not awkward in the least; it's actually very comforting, if Yukari has to say. His hand is surprisingly soft, even though his left is his main sword-hand during major fights. There are, however, multitude of nearly unnoticeable scars scattering across it, and before long, she finds herself tracing her fingers along them, mapping out his hand oh-so-carefully.

He only hums as she keeps his hand to herself, playing with his fingers, tracing the lines on his palm, even massaging it. His face is slightly red, but she feels like hers is heating up slightly, too, so she refrains from making a comment about it. They settle in his room just like that; with her absentmindedly kneading his hand, and he allowing her free reign of it.

After a while, she puts it down and looks up at him. He's watching her, his eyes a bit curious, but always so kind. She then mumbles. "So… are you feeling better?"

"Yes," He replies, beaming at her slightly. "Thanks to you."

"Mhm," She hums, scooting over so that their knees would touch. He doesn't shy away nor flinch, so she thinks she did a pretty fine job at it.

"Can I ask you a question?" He says quietly, eyes looking away.

"Sure."

"Not many people, if at all, would go that far…" He trails off. She could easily complete the phrase, however; _Nobody would go that far for someone like me_. She nudges him, urging him to continue. He exhales shakily. "So… why?"

"I've told you this before, but do I need a reason to save someone?" She whispers, putting a careful hand on his cheek. He winces slightly, but doesn't pull away. His reactions to physical touch hurt her a lot. "You were in pain. You were scared and lonely. Do I really need more motives to save a soul than that?"

"…I dunno," He murmurs after a moment. "…You're incomprehensible, sometimes."

" _You_ are incomprehensible _most_ of the time," She quickly shoots back, pulling her hand away, giggling slightly. Her smiles falters as she continues. "You're worse, you know. Saving people while you yourself are breaking into pieces."

"It's not that I'm a good person," He says, looking at her briefly before glancing out the window, at the rustling leaves that's dancing to the tune of the afternoon breeze. "Saving people is just… it makes me feel like I'm not a mistake. Like I actually am important to someone."

"Hey," She interrupts him, this time cupping both of his cheeks in her hands and forcing him to look at her. He only blinks as she presses her hands against his skin a little harder. "Don't say something like that. You're important to us, the SEES… you're important to _me_ , okay? You're not alone anymore."

They stare at each other like that for what feels like an eon to her, but then he breaks into a warm, gentle smile that makes her heart beats just a little faster. He puts one of his hands over hers and inhales before whispering only for her to hear. "…Thank you, Takeba."

"Yukari."

"…Excuse me?"

"Yukari," She repeats. "I don't think referring to each other with our last names is appropriate, at this point, with how much hand-holdings we're doing… _Makoto_."

He hums. "I guess. Well then… _Yukari_."

His voice is impossibly soothing, and it sends a shiver down her spine. She ignores it and pulls her hands away. She could feel it—she's really red to the ears, isn't she?

"Welp… then," She mumbles, not sure of what to do next. She just sighs. "Damnit, my brain isn't working."

"Uh… sorry?"

"It's okay, it's not your fault," _It actually is, but not intentionally,_ she adds mutely. Really, when he smiles like that, he's stupidly _cute_. She slaps her cheeks hard to get rid of that thought, and she catches Yuu—no, she catches _Makoto_ jumping from the corner of her eyes. "I really hate having brain farts."

He raises an eyebrow. She doesn't elaborate on it.

"Anyways," She says as her stomach growls, protesting her abuses of it. She grumbles. "I'm really hungry, and I'm thinking about a takeout, maybe… what do you want? And don't say _whatever_ , because that's going to tick me off and I'm going to _punch you_."

He winces a little, but ultimately nods. After a while, he says, "Pizza?"

"Sounds good."

He's smiling at her again, warm and gentle and so, _so_ soft.

She wishes she's just a tiny bit braver, and maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to acknowledge that her feeling's going beyond to being just _friends_.

* * *

She thinks Amada joining the SEES really rubs him the wrong way.

But Makoto's not voicing his concern aloud to anyone, only through his eyes. He looks wholly _furious_ , but that fury's not pointing at the boy. It's pointing somewhere else, at someone else, and whenever she catches his eyes, he would quickly look away with a scowl permanently planted on his face.

The August Full Moon Operation is approaching, and she's… concerned about him. While his leadership is still top-notch, he's really not acting much like himself during the down time, and she just doesn't like it.

So, when they finished their Tartarus excursion for the night, she quickly grabs him by the wrist and nudges him towards his room.

"Yukari, what the—"

"Shush and go in there first," She says, pushing him inside and closing the door behind them.

"What—"

"Makoto, I also have a problem with Amada-kun joining, but it looks like this is more personal to you than the rest of us, isn't it?" She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

He flinches. Bullseye.

"Well?"

"…Jackpot," He says with a deep sigh, his hand rubbing the back of his head. "He's still a kid. He's as young as I was when I—"

At this, he cuts himself off, working at his jaws and repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists. She puts her arms down and steps forward, placing a hand on his arm. He tenses up slightly, but doesn't do anything else. She doesn't know if this is a good idea or not, but she feels like she has to nudge a little. "You can tell me however much you want. But I think you _need_ to."

He takes in a few deep breaths before nodding. "I guess you're right. Let's just… sit down, first. It's going to be a long explanation."

His expression is a mix between deep-seated guilt and self-loathing as he sits down on the bed, his legs shaking slightly. He's jittery, and he's restless. He looks at her expectantly, and she joins him, sitting just close enough that they would have some sort of physical contact, with their knees pressed lightly together.

After a while, he murmurs, "Do you remember, when I told you that I've killed people before?"

Her breath hitches. He didn't elaborate during the trip, but she knew that the direction that conversation would've taken them towards would not be a good one. But if he's opening up, then she has to listen – there's no two ways about it. She steels herself before nodding. "Yeah."

"One of those happened when I was around his age," He says, his eyes looking at no particular spot. "It was a time just like this one; summer, where people are usually in high spirits and happy and carefree."

She reaches out to grab his hand, and he recuperates, holding onto hers just tight enough, but not so much as to make it painful.

"I was with a foster family, like always," He says, a frown appearing on his face. "I don't remember much of what happened, but I guess… it's a psychological amnesia, to reduce the trauma as much as I could. But I _do_ remember parts of it."

"You don't have to say everything, if it hurts," She says, squeezing his hand lightly.

"I need to," He whispers then inhales deeply. His voice is broken as he says. "We—no, _they_ were playing, and I got picked on. It started simple; a bit of unkind words, and it slowly escalated throughout the month, starting from insults, then bodily harms, until…"

He stops, frowning. His fingers are trembling, so she gives him another reassuring squeeze.

He smiles slightly, but it's clear that it's forced and empty. "One of the boys decided that he wanted to play a bit rougher than usual that day. He figured he's never seen someone drowned before, so he took me by the scruff of my neck, and pushed my head underwater."

She gasps; that explains a _lot_ , why he kept saying he's drowning and dying. He was reliving _those moments_ , with no way out. She bites down on her lip hard to stop herself from doing or saying anything. She settles down by rubbing at the back of his hand as he seems to have trouble keeping it still.

"I just grabbed at something I could reach and clenched around it hard until I was pulled back out," He murmurs, pulling his hand away from hers and grabs it, digging his own nails hard enough into it until he's bleeding. "When I came to my senses, I was straddling that boy, my hands around his throat. He's stopped moving for a while already."

…That's why what happened in that love hotel shook him up so much.

He's reliving _every last details_ of that memory.

"Makoto…"

"I killed a person," He says with a broken laughter. "And somehow, that worsened my PTSD. It's kind of funny, when you think about it – a _murderer_ like me, who just easily choked the life out of someone, is having trouble _living_ while the other person ended up _dead_ and buried."

"Stop that," She murmurs, pulling both of his hands to hers and gripping at them hard, refusing to let go. "You were just trying not to die. It's not—"

"—my fault?" He finishes, his voice no more than a whisper. "How is it not my fault when he's _dead_ , and I'm still here?"

She couldn't answer as the silence stretches more, and more, and more.

"I don't want Amada to experience that many traumatic situations like I was," He finally says after an eternity, his eyes casting downwards, shadowed by his hair. "I've been through something like that a lot. And the only time I actually did something, it resulted in someone's demise. Amada's not going to end up killing someone, of course, but… having these kinds of experiences when you're a kid _will_ desensitize you; it'll make you numb."

He pulls his hands away again.

"And before you know it, you'd already have done something horrible that you could never take back."

"I… I'm sorry."

"Don't be," He says with a sardonic smile. "I don't deserve it."

All she could do is pulling him into a hug, despite his protest. Words die in her throat, no matter how much she tries to think of things to say.

She couldn't say anything to him.

She just couldn't.

* * *

Strega is insane, there are no other words for them.

Makoto is keeping his cool, but she could see that he's seriously thinking about what they said; that deep down, they might not've been happy if they had eliminated the Dark Hour from the world.

She… despite the thoughts angering her so, Yukari thinks she'd understand if he'd begin to agree to that line of thought. The Dark Hour, Personas and Shadows, the SEES… they're all what's giving him his _raison d'être_. Without those things, he might be just another soul, wandering with no real meaning in life, empty, and alone. She could see it from his point of view, and just thinking about it hurts.

When she manages to catch him alone after school, she quickly matches her pace with his, and he only acknowledges her with a small, almost inaudible hum, with the music blasting into his ears as if it would let him drown out the world around him.

He doesn't have any appointments today, she knows that much. So she just silently follows him until he stops at the steps leading towards the station. After a brief moment of stillness, he murmurs. "You think I'm agreeing with Strega."

It isn't a question. It's a statement.

She gulps. "Yes."

"You're right," He murmurs quietly, not looking at her. He pulls his earphones off and tilts his head up towards the sky. "But you're also wrong."

She blinks. "What?"

"Eliminating the Dark Hour is my reason of being, and it's the one thing I can do to stop people from breaking and dying," He whispers, mostly to the wind. Something is breaking behind his tone, but he suppresses it as he continues. "If I allow it to continue, then what kind of sick bastard would I be? I'll not allow another soul to die because of me, ever again."

"Makoto—"

"I don't mind returning to whatever hell I've crawled out of," He says as he begins to walk again. "As long as I get to actually _live_ , and actually _save_ someone, rather than taking their lives, then I don't care."

She jogs a little to catch up to him. He's keeping himself a few steps ahead of her, but she could still hear some strains behind his breathing.

"Makoto," She calls again, finally matching her steps with his. He doesn't slow down, but neither is he speeding up. " _I_ would care if you disappear."

He actually slows down a little at that before turning to look at her, eyes slightly widened. "What?"

"I'm glad that you'll still fight, even after… what they said, what you've gone through, what you're going through," She says. "But even when all of those is said and done, when there's nothing but schools left, just know that we'd still be friends. I'd still be there, right beside you."

"…Why?" His voice shatters, and the word comes out in hushed, broken whisper. He's trying to keep it together, she could tell; his eyes are scared, and pleading.

She smiles, and takes his hand into hers, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I don't need a reason to care, you idiot."

"You're indecipherable."

"So are you."

He smiles and turns away, wiping something away from his eyes with the back of his hand (tears, probably). After a few deep breaths, he murmurs. "You're like an anchor that's keeping my feet on the ground, Yukari."

"Well, I had hoped I'd be the wings," She jests, still not letting his hand go. He doesn't seem to mind it. "But I'll take that compliment any day."

"Really," He murmurs, his voice a bit rough. "I could never understand you, but… thank you."

"You're _always_ welcome."

He looks like he wants to say something more, but in the end, he doesn't, only taking one of her hand in his and interlacing their fingers, like they did before. After a brief squeeze, he hums with a content smile. "So, Paulownia Mall? Or the Dorm?"

"The Dorm," She answers without missing a beat.

She'll be there, whenever he needs her to.

She'll _never_ let him be abandoned ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo... it's a bit on the slow side
> 
> Next chapter though! I'm excited to welcome Shinjirou into Makoto's life :D
> 
> See ya folks next time! :D :D :D


	6. V: The Unconventional Hierophant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Come on, let me repay the favors," He tries again. She's really stubborn, and it's hard to get his ways sometimes. But he's determined to at least help her out whenever he can, seeing that she's sticking to him and putting up with his nonsenses for three straight weeks already.
> 
> "…Okay," She finally relents, smiling at him. "Then, goodnight… and see you tomorrow."
> 
> "Mhm," He hums. "See you."
> 
> He bites back down the three other words he also wants to say.
> 
> This is enough. He shouldn't be asking for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! I'm a bit early, because I have exams on Sunday. Better get this outta the way first huh
> 
> Anywas... a bit more slice of life. And, as the chapter name implies, Shinijou is here! :D

**_V: The Unconventional Hierophant_ **

_Hierophant: Tradition, Conventionality, Education, Knowledge, Beliefs_

_Reversed Hierophant: Rebellion, Unconventionality, New Approaches, Ignorance_

* * *

He's… fallen in love.

There's no two fucking ways about it.

And Makoto isn't sure if he should feel relieved, or _scared_ , about that.

"Makoto?" Yukari's voice jolts him out of his contemplation. His bodily reaction almost makes him drop the pen in his hand. "You okay? You sure are spacing out at a weird time."

"Uh, sorry, s'nothing," He mumbles, scratching his neck. He sees Junpei smirking at him, and promptly kicks his friend under the table. He ignores the boy's yelp and turns to Yukari, blinking dumbly a few times before looking down at her hands. "…Is that—?"

"The summer school homework? _Yep_ ," She says with a frown, placing it on the table. He leans over to take a better look at the questions, still ignoring Junpei that's still bemoaning his existence. She groans and leans back against the couch. "I really, _really_ hate it."

"Kirijou-senpai meant well," He says, taking the papers into his hand and making a few mental notes out of it. "Huh… S'not too hard, just a bit tedious."

"Really? _This_ is not hard? It's _calculus_ , Makoto!" Junpei whines.

"I don't see where you're getting at," He says flatly. He's already read everything up to the senior years, so he really doesn't get all the fuss. The subjects aren't that hard, _if_ you study for it. "It's not hard… if you _do_ study, and I suppose you just _don't_ , Junpei."

"Dude, that's just _mean!_ " The boy grumbles.

"Serves you right," Yukari giggles.

His mind cuts out the rest of their bickering, only focusing itself on Yukari as she laughs, her smile bright and just so, so _beautiful_. He inwardly sighs; he's smitten, that's for sure. And this is _not_ a good thing, because while she's helped him so, so much, she _deserves_ better than wet trash that he is. He couldn't offer her happiness, only pain, or neutrality, at best.

He decides to focus on the questions, slowly calculating and making his way through it, one at a time, keeping his mind off her – off his _sun_. He's content with feeling this way, but he will _not_ let himself weigh her down. He briefly answers her question before going back to his own, fingers absently massaging away the creases between his brows.

He's also attempting to ignore the way Amada looks. He knows off-handedly that he lost his mother to a Shadow, and he only vaguely remembers it. He also knows that Aragaki lost control of his Persona a few years ago, and left the SEES after. It's not hard to see a sign, if you know where to look, and what to look for. And the timing is too perfect – a few years back, for both of them.

For Akagaki, specifically – why must he leave, when his Persona lost control? Of course, Makoto could only really think of one explanation, and it _hurts_ to think about it. But he'd understand that. He'd also catch the older boy taking something, like a drug, when he thought no one was looking.

Not to mention the way he looks at Amada. While the younger boy doesn't seem to think of Aragaki differently _just yet_ , guilt is depicted clearly in the older boy's eyes. He had worn those looks like badges of honor before, so he'd know.

It's not hard to put all of the pieces into one big picture.

Aragaki killed Amada's mother, there's no other explanation.

Amada doesn't know just yet, and he doubts the secrecy will last. And if he's seeing it right, from the way Amada talks, from the way he thinks… he's going to seek and exact revenge, even if it costs him his own life. Makoto's seen it before (indirectly however the experience is), so he would know.

And he won't allow that to come to pass.

But for now, he decides to shove the thoughts away, refocusing his attention on the papers in front of him. While doing homework is dull, at best, it is the best way for him to distract himself.

Yukari's hands are also a good way to distract him, but let's not dwell on that.

* * *

After a while and a few whines, they finish their homework for the day. He leans back and flips his way through his appointment book.

He then winces.

"Ow."

"Hm? What is it?"

Yukari is quick to ask, scooting a bit closer to take a look at his pocket book. He only sighs and closes it. He thinks about throwing it away, but doesn't. If he does, it's going to be a _pain_ to actually recreate the whole damn thing up from the ground. "I forgot I'm going to be missing out on a class. You know…"

It dawns on her almost instantly, and she frowns. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine," He murmurs, sinking into the couch as he does. He keeps his eyes on the ceiling and lets out another sigh before closing his eyes. "Thankfully, the new psychiatrist actually _knows_ what he's doing. He's not probing too hard, and I'm making _some_ progress."

"That's good to hear."

She then takes his left hand into hers and starts mapping it out, like she always does when the night is slow and they're _mostly_ alone. He thinks Junpei's still around, but he's not going to turn away the feeling of her hands on his. Seriously, this girl might be the death of him, but he thinks he'd die a content man, so _who cares_.

"I forgot to ask this before, but how was the Kendo Tournament?" She says, fingers gently tracing upon his scars. It takes him a moment before the question sinks in.

"Won silver. Made a new friend, again. Kinda nice," He mumbles, curling his fingers around her hand lightly, not daring to put much power into them. Hayase hit like a fucking _truck_ , and his neck still hurts from that one swing. He's not going to say that out loud, though.

"You? Lost? That's new," She hums, turning his hand up before she presses on his fingertips lightly, almost playfully.

"It's just Kendo, not life-or-death situations," He mumbles, pressing a hand on his face as a wave of nausea hits him. The psychiatrist's attempt to taper his antidepressants down is appreciated, but he's starting to _feel_ it, just like the last time years ago when he was on them. This is going to suck. "Ugh."

"Makoto? What's wrong?" She asks, worried. He cracks open his eyes to see her leaning forward a bit more than maybe she should. He weighs his options, whether to tell her the truth or not.

In the end, he decides to spill the beans. If she finds out later, he's going to be getting an earful, and she might cut off whatever… this relationship is. "I'm tapering my antidepressants."

She tilts her head. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"Not the withdrawal symptoms, no."

"There are _withdrawal symptoms?_ "

Well, it's not like the field of psychiatry is widely known or generally accepted. He should've seen that coming. He sits up straight, their hands still joint (somehow). He takes maybe a minute to chew on his lip until it almost bleed. "Yeah. Happened before, so I'm not surprised. But it sucks."

…He's also not going to say that the last time, the symptoms last for like, four months? …Yeah, let's not say that now. Too much information is _not_ a good thing here.

"What are the symptoms?" She asks.

Oh _shoot_. He really wishes she wouldn't ask that, because while they're not really dangerous, he's experiencing a _multitude_ of them. The combinations are annoying, at best, and at the lowest they can actually be _debilitating._

She takes his silence wrong as she asks, her voice low and trembling. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Wait, don't take this wrong, they're not dangerous or anything," He quickly corrects her, squeezing her hand again. She relaxes slightly. "They're just plain annoying."

"You're sure that's all they are, right?" She asks with a slight frown.

"Yeah," He murmurs. After a brief pause. "Forgot to ask, too… how's archery contest?"

She is giving him a stink eye at his sudden change of the subject, and he winces a little. Luckily, she decides to move on to his question after a moment.

"I won gold."

"Well, that's kind of a given," He says, ignoring the feeling of her fingers on his wrist. Why are they _up there?_ When she tilts her head, he clarifies. "The targets aren't moving or trying to shoot thunderbolt at you, are they?"

"…You've got a point," She hums.

"Then," He murmurs, glancing at the clock. The Dark Hour is approaching. They should get to bed soon. "We should head to bed."

"Huh?" She makes a confused noise before looking at the clock, and frowns. "It's already this late?"

"Don't you have practice tomorrow morning?" He asks, reluctantly untangling his fingers from hers. He regrets the loss, but it can't be help.

"Oh shit, I actually do!" She says in a panic. "I forgot. I _actually_ forgot. What the _heck!?_ "

He finds himself smiling a little as he gathers her scattered stationaries and hands them to her. "I'll take care of the rest. Go to bed already."

"Hey, you're _not_ cleaning this mess up alone—"

"S'fine," He cuts her off, shoving her things into her arms. "Every minutes of sleep counts. _I,_ of all people, would know."

"But—"

"Come on, let me repay the favors," He tries again. She's really stubborn, and it's hard to get _his_ ways sometimes. But he's determined to at least help her out whenever he can, seeing that she's sticking to him and putting up with his nonsenses for three straight weeks already.

"…Okay," She finally relents, smiling at him. "Then, goodnight… and see you tomorrow."

"Mhm," He hums. "See you."

He bites back down the three other words he also wants to say.

This is enough. He shouldn't be asking for more.

* * *

When he walks out of the hospital, it's already nighttime (what kind of fucking session takes _8 hours?_ Good _god_ ), and—

"…Aragaki-senpai?"

He murmurs, a bit unsure. The older boy just looks at him with a frown, hands in his coat. He picks up minute shivering under his garments, but chooses not to voice it. He pulls off his earphone and walks over as Aragaki stands up.

"How's the sessions going?" The taller boy asks, his eyes hard, concealing the kindness underneath.

"…Alright, I guess," He answers. When Aragaki hums in response, he starts weighing the things he wants to say. He decides to bite the bullet. "Can I ask you a question?"

"What? You wanna know why I'm here to pick your ass up or something?"

"No," Makoto quickly shakes his head. Even though he's a bit curious about that part, he still needs to voice this out first. "…You're really going to hate me for this, but… you killed Amada's mother, didn't you?"

He stops dead.

His voice _seems_ flat, but he could easily pick out the uneasiness, the fear, under it. "…How did you—?"

"I'm good at interpreting body languages and deductions," He says quietly, testing the water, trying not to intrude more than he should. But he has to, or someone might end up dead _because_ of his inactions.

"…How deviously perceptive of you," Aragaki says at last, voice low. He turns around, face unreadable, save for the frown on it. "So what? You gonna tell Amada? I ain't gonna stop you, you know."

"No," He shakes his head again. "I want you to take responsibility by _living_ , Aragaki-senpai."

"You _what_."

The way venom drenches and drips from those two words scares him. Like his foster parents catching him doing something they didn't want him to do before they're followed by hands and feet and sticks. He swallows back the panic bubbling up his throat and clenches his fists.

He has to do this. _Needs_ to.

"If — _when_ Amada knows, he's going to exact his revenge on you. Whether you die directly by his hands or not, the weight of the world will be on him, and you will have broken a _child_."

That gives Aragaki a long pause. He looks up at the moon, and then back down at him. He clenches his jaws a little before murmuring. "Experience?"

He gives the older boy a sad smile. "Yes."

Aragaki sighs. "Jesus Christ, you have more baggages on you than a fucking freight train."

"That's my life," He shrugs. "Do you want to talk about it, Aragaki-senpai?"

"Only if you do."

"Then it's a deal."

* * *

Instead of heading back to the dorm right away, the two of them find themselves admiring the night sky at the Moonlight Bridge.

Aragaki is leaning on the railing, looking off into a place far, far away, while Makoto has his back against it, watching the passing cars and the bright, flickering lights.

"So," Aragaki begins, unsure. "What did you and your perceptiveness picked out?"

"That you killed Amada's mother, probably with your Persona when you lost control. That caused you to leave the SEES. I don't know how you're able to keep it under control now, but I guess it might have something to do with the fact that you're wearing _that_ kind of clothes during summer."

Aragaki actually laughs at that before he applauds, clearly amused, and slightly amazed. He isn't too sure; his facial expressions are the hardest to read, by far. "You hit the bullseye, Yuuki. If everyone is like you, I'm gonna be so _fucked_."

"Not everyone killed four people when they were a kid like I did, though," He murmurs. Yet again, his hands betray him as they tremble, his fingertips cold like ice.

There's a pause. He dares not look at the older boy.

"Four, huh…?" He murmurs. "If I—"

"My parents," He answers the question that's still lingering at the tip of the other's tongue. "A boy who tried to drown me years ago, and… the best foster parent I've ever had."

"Your parents died on this very bridge, didn't they? Why is it _your_ fault?" Aragaki says. His eyes are soft, not dissimilar to his father's.

"Because I survived and they did not," He mumbles, putting his hands inside his pockets, nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet. He _knows_ it's not his fault, but at the same time, it _is_. The psychiatrist called it _Survivor's Guilt_ , or something.

"…I see. What about the other two?"

"I strangled the boy who dunked my head under the water by _accident_ ," He bites the word out. He hates it. It was not an accident, but his shrink said that it was. Was it, though? He sighs and shakes his head. "Or rather, it's not an accident, but I didn't plan it and didn't want to kill him."

"Hey, Yuuki," Aragaki murmurs. "You don't have to continue, if you don't want to."

"I'm asking you to tell me your own sin, Senpai," He whispers. "I _have_ to."

There's a beat of silence.

He sighs. "The last one's a bit… hard to talk about."

"Take your time. We have all night — or at least, until maybe the Dark Hour comes," Aragaki says with a small smile that really doesn't suit his usual scowl. But Makoto doesn't mind it.

"M'kay," He mumbles, closing his eyes. "When I was maybe… fourteen? A year after the strangulation _incident_ —" He hates himself for saying that. It was not an accident. It was a murder "—I… landed in maybe the best home I could ever ask for."

Deep breath. Panic attack is going to come after this, he's pretty sure. But he has to press on. To save a life — no, _two_. He _must_.

"She's a widower. Dunno why she took me in. Didn't ask. I was no more than a wet trash, then. Just… kind of floating around. She's patient. She's kind. She's loving. For the first time after my parents died, I was _loved_."

"…Shit," Aragaki mutters. "Look, my story isn't as heavily-loaded as yours. You don't—"

"I _want_ to," He interrupts. Even if he's going to break down here and now, he has to. He has never talked about this to anyone, not even Yukari. But Aragaki _needs_ to listen. He needs to know that if he dies, all of the guilt and the weight will shackle Amada down and drag him into the mud.

He would know. He had been there. He's _still_ there.

"…Alright. Go on."

"S'all went to hell when the neighbors set the whole fucking house on _fire_ because they caught wind of _what_ I am," He hisses through gritted teeth, his body shaking. He hugs his arms and wills it to stop. Not yet. He can't break down just yet. "She didn't care about it when she should. She was fine before I was there, they were all friends. They turned against her when she fostered me."

He is the reason for her death. A kind, loving woman who's lost everything died because of _him_.

"She should have left me. She didn't. And because I wanted to be there, because I was not fucking brave enough to leave, they set her house on fire and she's _burnt alive_ ," He barely manages to choke out the last part.

They didn't mean to kill her. She was in that house because he _forgot something_ , so she went inside at the time she usually wasn't in, and—

He _caused_ her death. He's the reason.

"…I'm sorry."

He shakes his head. "I don't deserve it."

Death follows him _everywhere_. It clings to him like a parasite, sapping away lives that dare venture too close, taking away loves he doesn't deserve.

He has always wished that Death would claim his soul, too. It never does.

"It broke me," He murmurs. "Her death is a weight on my shoulders, and before I came here — even _after_ I came here, her screams haunted me. I can't ever forgive myself."

He turns to look Aragaki in the eyes.

"Even if your death is _indirect_ , it will break Amada. Don't let him kill you—no, don't you fucking dare _die_ , because your death will be on _him_."

There's a heavy sigh. "And on you."

He…

"…Maybe, I don't know." He says, letting his weight pulls him down and falls to the ground, his hands cradling his head carefully. "I don't want anyone else around me to die anymore. Is that too much to ask for?"

"S'not," Aragaki mumbles. Before long, he's sitting beside Makoto, not close enough to touch him, but enough for him to feel his body heat. "Right, you've made your point. Then I'll live, but it ain't gonna be for myself. It'll be for the kid—and for _you_."

He'll take that. He doesn't care for the reason. He just doesn't want to see anyone else leaves. He doesn't want anyone else to die.

He doesn't want to be left alone.

"Thank you."

"Thank _you_ , Yuuki," Aragaki says, and reluctantly puts a hand on his head before ruffling his hair. He finds that he doesn't mind the feeling. "Damn it, now that you've made a point, I really can't just die no matter what."

"If you could, then _please_."

"Means I gotta watch out for…"

"Strega, right?"

The look Aragaki is giving him is, yet again, partly impressed, partly furious.

"How—?"

"You always hang out around shady parts of town," He explains, hands playing with the MP3 again. "It's not hard to guess who you'd have to deal with, to get something that'd control your Persona… outside of the Kirijou Group, anyway."

"Yuuki, I don't know if I'm more impressed or more afraid of you right now."

"Hopefully the former," He hums.

"You're pretty smart, huh."

"Just perceptive."

"And a smartass, to boot," Aragaki tousles his hair even harder, and he tries to push him off, but fails. The man is _brawny_. "If everyone is like you, I think I'm going to be fucked ten times over in the span of two weeks."

He lets out a small, broken laugh.

"Well, then I should tell my side of the story, too, yeah? S'only fair."

"Only if you want to," He mutters. "I told you mine only because you _need_ to hear it. I don't."

"Fair point," Aragaki nods. "Still, I'm gonna spill, cuz I want to. I think you're the only person in my world that will get what I'm feelin'."

"True enough."

He relaxes and closes his eyes as Aragaki tells his own tale. It's the least Makoto could do for him.

* * *

He _knows_ it's coming, the damn panic attack, but the awful timing can go suck a _dick_.

After he's listened to his side of the story and convinced Aragaki to seek aid from the Kirijou Group (to his surprise and relief, the older boy _agreed_ ), he thought it was all well and good… but when he hears the horns of the cars, too loud and too long and _too close_ , he starts to feel his heartbeat galloping inside his ribcage like bands of wild horses, thundering hooves clapping against the bones of his spine. He ignores the older boy's call as he runs and _runs_ back towards the dorm as fast as he could.

He slams the door open and ignores all the greetings and the yelling as he stumbles and half-crawls his ways up the steps. He's all too familiar with this sense of dread and impending doom. A panic attack isn't something you can avoid, especially not when you have to spend a long time remembering all the things that have gone to shit in your life, only to have the damn trigger (it was only at that moment that he realizes that nearby, loud _car horns_ is one of his triggers) being slammed into your senses.

Fucking stress and memories and triggers.

He doesn't bother for the keys, only ramming his shoulder against the door until it flies open, and he falls to the ground. He scrambles up and tries to remember through the fog where his bottle of Xanax is. Trembling, sweating fingertips grasp and fumble at the drawers and the desk, spilling the contents to the ground. He slips on a piece of paper, but gets up immediately and goes for the sink.

After rummaging through the dark for a while, he finds it. The bottle is slippery between his palms, and it's hard to screw the cap off. When he does, he immediately spills the contents to the floor. But he couldn't stop. He grabs the nearest pill and swallows it immediately, ignoring the curious call from just outside of his room. After taking some mouthful of air, he manages to get himself up and stumbles towards the space between the sink and the corner, his legs finally giving out, letting his body slide to the ground.

The light of his room is suddenly turned on, and a set of footsteps approach him. He's still panting, his heart is still hammering away inside his chest, and his lungs are still constricted and bound and caged, but his head is clear enough. He looks up to see Yukari looking at him with concern. He only watches, with his hands clasped together, knees pulled to his chest, arms hugging them. She gives him a small smile before kneeling down, gently enveloping his hands in hers.

"You okay?" She murmurs, carefully unraveling his hands from one another and does what she's always done; taking his hand and mapping it with callous, careful fingers.

He exhales slowly. "…Yeah. Just… panic attack."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No need to," He mumbles. He's already talked his problems out with Aragaki. He doesn't need to talk more about it – at least, not tonight.

"Okay," She hums. After a while, she tugs at his hand, a bit hesitant. He takes the cue and slowly gets to his feet – only then does he see that he's turning his room into one big mess. Cleaning up tomorrow is going to be a pain, but that's for tomorrow's him.

Today's him is going to get some rest ( _not sleep_ , only rest), thank you.

"Lemme guess," She says, mindfully leading him away from the corner. He ignores the fallen papers and pens and bottles, for now. After she sits him on the bed, she continues. "Don't want to sleep tonight?"

"No," He says with a sigh. "I'm a mess."

"Well, yes, I can see that."

"I'll be fine," He murmurs. His heart is still noisy, his lungs not really cooperating. But he's better than the first time he's had this kind of episodes. He'll make do, somehow. "Goodnight."

"Hey, I never said anything about going back down there," She is quick to retort as she closes the door (he's only, thankfully, destroyed the locks, and not the chains), hooks the chain on it, and walks back over to him. She then sits beside him, and pulls his left hand into hers yet again.

"Go have fun," He whispers. "I'll be fine, don't worry."

"Nuh-uh, not happening," She says before lacing her fingers to his, giving him a firm grip. "Makoto, with all seriousness, please ask for help when you need it."

"I—"

"—Don't need help?" She finishes with a scowl. "Yeah, _no_ , you're not convincing anyone with how you scrambled up the steps like you did."

He winces. "Sorry."

"S'okay," She says. "I've read it up. These things happened, right? Sometimes with a trigger?"

"…Yeah."

"Can you… tell me?"

"This time? Car horns," He says, closing his eyes and trying to think of something else. Maybe the pink alligator Kamiki mentions in his story. He doesn't find himself having any reaction to that thought, so he scraps it and tries again. "Loud, long, blaring car horns right next to me."

"I see," She murmurs as she drags the pad of her index finger along his knuckles, soft, light, maybe a bit mischievous. He likes it, so he doesn't stop her. She pauses on a scar that's right in the middle of his hand, having gotten it from being stabbed right through the palm. "…I'm here, Makoto."

"I know. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

There are still three words his heart wants to say.

But he can't.

He doesn't want to burden her with his feelings, useless and painful. He doesn't want the Death that has been shadowing him, that has always been looming over his shoulder, to claim another soul. To claim _her soul_ , like it did his parents, like it did his foster mother.

He's fine with how they are now.

(He's not).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost done with this series, man. I'm already on XX: Judgement, and it feels like that one's going to be like 10k words long D: SENT HELP
> 
> After Judgement, it's five more chapters. I'm almost there, guys, lol. Rest assured, you'll have regular updates until it's finished, cuz I'm pretty confidence I can whip out those last chapters. Judgement is a bit of a drag though. Well! I'll have fun writing the rest afterwards >:D
> 
> Well! Until next week, guys!


	7. VI: The Lover's Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "…Makoto?" She whispers, the smile wiped clean from her face as she walks closer to him. He doesn't pull away, but he's wiping tears – he's crying – away from his eyes with his left hand. His breath is steady, but he still refuses to look at her. "Hey, Makoto—"
> 
> "You really should've come here with someone else," He murmurs with a broken laughter. "I'm not even mentally stable. I'm broken and I'll never be whole. And look, I'm bringing the mood down. So why me?"
> 
> She presses her lips into a thin line before forcing herself to smile. "Because you're gentle and kind like no one else. And you're a dear friend, so I see no reason why it can't be you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I'm a little early again, because I'm going to break next week due to unforeseen exam! FML
> 
> So I'mma update again maybe on Saturday, then disappear. Might update after exam tho, who knows?
> 
> Anywhos, enjoy, guys! A bit of hurt-comfort and fluff? I guess?

**_VI: The Lovers' Affection_ **

_Lovers: Partnerships, Duality, Union, Love_

_Reversed Lovers: Disharmony, Loss of Balance, One-sidedness_

* * *

She knows he wants to say something.

What, though? No idea.

Yesterday's panic attack (it's admittedly much easier to handle than usual), even when he still had his wits about him, and can still think, really makes the team (and herself) realize just how fragile he is outside of the Dark Hour. During one, he's competent, he's capable, he's strong and fierce. But outside it? Most of the time, he looks normal, like everyone else. But when something hits the wrong button, he could just easily spiral into a pit despair and anxiety.

Even if he always turns up normal and proficient the next day, he can still be _fragile_. Having that kind of image slammed into your face is a harsh wake-up call.

She, Fuuka and Junpei are downstairs, chatting idly. She hasn't asked them to wait with her, but after what they saw yesterday, they figured that Makoto could use a few more friends for their trip to the school. It's the last day of summer school, too, so at least they can have a little solace in that.

"Ah! Makoto!" Junpei calls with a wave, drawing her attention to him. He looks at least normal, save for the tiredness in his eyes and the small but noticeable bags under them. When he catches the three of them, he offers first a confused blink, then a small smile.

"Morning," He murmurs. "I thought you guys are already out."

"Figure we might go to summer class together, for once," Junpei says, carelessly slinging his arm over Makoto's shoulders. The shorter boy doesn't react much except for a grunt and a slight frown.

"Arm off me," He grumbles, then lets out an uncharacteristically loud yawn. "If you keep it up, I'm going to fall asleep on the floor and not my feet."

Unlike his usual conducts, Junpei does listen to him, this time, and carefully pulls his arm away. Makoto only nods at him before rubbing at his eyes. The three of them exchange a look, and before she knows it, she is already pushed towards Makoto.

Fuuka and Junpei are giving her _those smiles_. She frowns, but ultimately resigns to her fate (well, not really, she likes being with him) and waits for him to start walking.

He's pacing his steps suspiciously slowly, and Yukari has to resist the urge to ask why. When Fuuka and Junpei is a bit out of earshot, Makoto turns to her and says. "Why are you people waiting for me?"

"Can you really blame them for worrying after seeing you like that?" She says, pouting a little. "It takes me convincing them with everything I know in my book to stop them from going into your room, you know."

…That, and Aragaki miraculously turning up and shooing all of them except her away. Somehow.

It's weird how perfect his timing was, but she's not going to complain (much) if it works.

"…I see," He murmurs, looking down at his feet as they walk side by side. She sees Fuuka giving her a _look_ , again (who'd know that she'd be such an unrelenting tease?), and she promptly ignores it. Nope, she's not going to fall into that trap. Makoto then abruptly stops. "…Yukari?"

"Yeah?" She hums, turning back to him, curious.

He's rooted to the spot, and he looks like he wants to say something. To _her_ , specifically. But he looks torn – like he wants to, but he _can't_. She knows better than to pry, so she simply waits. At her silence, he looks even more forlorn, his brows knotted together, his lips set into a thin line, his jaws tense. After a moment, he lets out a sigh and shakes his head.

"Sorry, forget I said anything."

"But you haven't said anything yet," She states.

He just frowns, again. It isn't like when he's having panic attacks or being depressed or after reliving his dreams, it's… it feels like a decision he doesn't want to make, but has to. She doesn't really know how to put it, either, but the looks on his face? It doesn't outright break her heart, but it makes her _uncomfortable_.

He heaves out another long-suffering sigh. "Just forget it. I was about to say something stupid."

"Like what?" She says as they resume walking, and nudges his ribs a little. He only glances at her briefly before letting out a soft laughter.

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

She decides to leave it at that.

* * *

She totally forgets about the summer festival tomorrow, and only really thinks about it after Kirijou and Fuuka mentioned it during their meeting at the lounge a few hours ago.

"…Shit."

Borrowing a Yukata is actually pretty easy ( _thanks, Kirijou-senpai_ ), but the problem is, who's she going to go with?

…She thinks she has an idea. But would _he_ be up for it, though?

She sighs and makes her way down and towards the lounge. It's unusually quiet, but then again, it's the last day of summer school, so no doubt the others would've already left and out to find something fun to do.

When she reaches the first floor, she sees… Aigis, standing there, looking at someone in the kitchen with her disturbingly unflinching eyes. She blinks and walks over before following her gaze. To say that her jaw drops to the floor is not at all an over exaggeration.

Makoto and… _Aragaki_ (in pink apron, no less!), of all people, are busy with the pans and the stoves in the kitchen, chatting quietly among themselves. It looks to her like the older boy is _teaching_ Makoto how to cook. She just blinks at the surreality of it all before turning to the android, who's watching the scene with marked interest.

"…What are they doing?"

"Aragaki-san is teaching Makoto-san how to cook," She replies. Makoto turns to look at them with a quirked eyebrow before he goes back to the pan. The _pink_ apron does _not_ help. "It seems like he has been interested in Aragaki-san's food for quite some time now, so he asked for a lesson when the chance came up."

"…Okay?" She says, tilting her head slightly. She spies Koromaru wagging his tail at them, and the shorter boy promptly brings to the canine a tray of warm food.

"There, there, good boy," Makoto murmurs with a gentle smile, hand scratching Koromaru's head and patting his snout lightly when he looks up.

Then she catches Aragaki looking at them. He takes a long, unmoving pause, before he let out a noise that's right between a choke and a yell.

He immediately rips the apron off of his torso. "Why the _fuck_ are you there, too, Takeba!?"

"I thought you saw her already," Makoto comments off-handedly as he stands up. Aragaki gives him a look that could've killed a person.

"Yuuki, you _asshole_ —"

"Not my fault you're too engrossed to hear her footsteps," Makoto shrugs. "Are we going to stop here, though? The food's almost done. It would be kind of a shame."

"…Fuck you."

"No thank you, I'm not bisexual."

Yukari splutters at that, while Aragaki just sighs and scratches the back of his head. "…Fucking fine. But when I move into here, I'm going to kick your ass into the fucking sun, and you can bet your life I _will_."

Makoto rolls his eyes, but dutifully goes back to the stove while Aragaki just points at the table. She takes the invitation (threat) and sits down. When Koromaru gives a few barks, Aigis comments, "He said that Makoto-san is very gentle, and that the food Aragaki-san made is the best."

She could see both of their faces redden slightly at that, but decides against grilling them about it. She isn't crazy enough to tease Aragaki, and she could do that to Makoto in private.

…Huh.

"Hey, Makoto?" She calls, a bit unsure.

"Yeah?"

"You free tomorrow?" She says, a bit hopeful. She ignores the look Aragaki is giving her.

"…I don't have anything planned. Why?"

"Wanna come with me to the festival?"

Something crosses his eyes, too brief to make out, but long enough to make her feel uneasy. He looks away and back at the simmering meal as he pours the content into the plate. Aragaki is looking at him with a knowing gaze, and pats his head softly before he takes the plate from Makoto and to the table.

His reaction is… worrying. He just keeps his eyes on the kitchen counter as he pulls the Apron off and neatly folds it with his arms. After a long sigh, he turns to her with a smile on his lips that doesn't match the unreadable glint in those pair of steel gray.

"Sure."

She frowns slightly, but is pulled out of her thoughts when Aragaki slams the plate down before her. She blinks at the golden fried rice. "Uh… what?"

"You taste it. I've already done that. He's pretty good," He says, pointing his thumb towards Makoto as he gives the older boy a short bow. "Hey, make sure you put all the ingredients back where I told you to, m'kay? I'll tell you when I'm free next."

"Okay," He murmurs. "Thanks, Aragaki-senpai."

"Don't mention it," Aragaki says. "Then, I'm off, still got three or four more boxes to pack."

"Do you want help?"

Another pause. "If you could clear up my room enough for a few boxes, then yeah."

"I'll do that," He hums with a small smile. "See you around, Senpai."

"Alright."

When the older boy leaves the vicinity, she turns to Makoto who's promptly trying to make his way to the steps. She nearly topples the plate when she catches his wrist, but she ignores it. Aigis is looking at them strangely, and Koromaru is giving out a soft whine, but she ignores them, too.

"What?" He turns around, a scowl on his face. He seems tenser than usual, and she notices the slight tremor under his externally calm voice.

"There's something you're not telling me," She says, not a question, but a statement.

He doesn't deny it. He doesn't answer at first, only offering her an apologetic look. When he tugs at his wrist, she lets him go, and he looks at her for a moment that stretches into an eternity. The uneasiness is back, and for a second, she feels the cold fingers of dread touching at her heart. She bites back the gasp threatening to escape her lips and just keeps her eyes on his, trying to figure him out.

He only gives her a smile. "You're right."

"Tell me, then," She whispers, she quietly _demands_ , she hopelessly _pleas_. That voice is back, and it's telling her that she _can't_ let him go.

"No."

"Why?" She hisses out, reaching for his hand again. For the first time since his breakdown, he pulls it away from her reach. She then says, a little louder. "Can't you just talk to me?"

He doesn't answer her question, only giving her a look that speaks louder than any words someone like him would say, that makes her uneasy.

Then, he murmurs, "See you tomorrow, Yukari."

And then, she's alone.

* * *

She doesn't know if she's looking forward to the festival, or dread for it.

The Yukata is… comfortable, but it makes her a bit nervous. She twirls around in front of the mirror for a few seconds before sighing and just accepting the fact that no, the dress is _not_ the only reason for her discomfort.

Makoto's eyes and body languages are _nerve-wrecking_ , to put it lightly. She caught a glimpse of him in the morning, feeding Koromaru and talking with Amada, but when he looked at her, there were pain and reluctance and sorrow behind his eyes. He covered them all with a gentle smile, like the ones he always gives her when they're mostly alone, or when she's playing with his hand.

Why were those emotions in his gaze when he looked at her? What did she do wrong?

Nothing comes to mind.

She sighs; she needs someone to talk to about this. Thinking about it alone would only cause her to run in circle like a dog chasing its own tail. She thinks she has an idea of who that someone would have to be, but she couldn't do that tonight. She just pushes the thoughts to the furthest, darkest corner of her mind and focuses on the present. For now, the festival awaits.

When she descends down to the first floor, Makoto is already there, with his MP3 and his earphones, drowning out his surroundings. She forces the uneasiness away and walks over, tapping him lightly on his arm. He jumps a little at that, a hand over his heart as he turns to her. Damnit, she _always_ forgets that unnoticed physical contacts with him are… a bit of a taboo.

When he calms down, he turns to look at her fully, pushing himself off the wall. The intensity of his gaze is making her face heating up like steel burning in the furnace, and when she's about to ask _why_ , he just says, simply, as if stating a simple fact. "You're _beautiful_."

She stammers. "Uh… um, thank you?"

He offers a smile before nodding towards the door. "Shall we?"

He doesn't need to ask twice.

The walk towards the shrine is quiet, a _little bit_ uncomfortable, but the gentle look in his eyes is calming down her nerves quite a bit. He keeps his hands inside his pockets, and she has to resist the urge to pull his hand out of it and play with it like she usually would; doing that in the confine of their dorm is fine, but out in the public is… a bit questionable.

Not that she would mind, of course, but the poor boy wouldn't want more attention than he's already received from the strangers.

The shrine, as expected, is quite lively, with children and games and bright lights. She hasn't had much chance to actually enjoy a festival before, and it makes her feel like a little kid again as she admires the decorations and the smell of delicious food.

"Come on, slowpoke!" She calls him as she notices him falling behind. He blinks a little before smiling slightly, hastening his steps to meet hers. "You've ever been to a summer festival before?"

"Not often," He hums, also taking the time to look around. "It's pretty."

"I know, right?" She giggles as she twirls a little bit, careful not to step on the lines on the ground.

She steps and skips around, enjoying the feeling of her sandals hitting and scratching against the hard surface, letting the warm wind and the brilliant light embrace her. It takes her a moment to realize that Makoto isn't following her, so she turns around with the laughter at her lips. The light behind him is like a halo, creating a sharp contrast of color as it enfolds him, and it takes her eyes maybe a second too long to actually make out the look on his face.

He's smiling at her, gentle and warm, but at the same time doleful. She stops, and the moment turns into an endless stretch of time. The world halts for a moment as she watches him. His eyes are kinder than any, his smile small but tender. But the dim light in those pair of gray as they lock with hers make her breath hitches.

She's seen that expression countless times before, but she could never describe it when it's on his face – but now, now she finally knows what it is, and it's sinking her heart to the bottom of the sea.

"…Makoto?" She whispers, the smile wiped clean from her face as she walks closer to him. He doesn't pull away, but he's wiping tears – _he's crying_ – away from his eyes with his left hand. His breath is steady, but he still refuses to look at her. "Hey, Makoto—"

"You really should've come here with someone else," He murmurs with a broken laughter. "I'm not even mentally stable. I'm broken and I'll never be whole. And look, I'm bringing the mood down. So why me?"

She presses her lips into a thin line before forcing herself to smile. "Because you're gentle and kind like no one else. And you're a dear friend, so I see no reason why it can't be _you_."

To make her point, she puts a hand on his chest, feeling his erratic heartbeat. He looks down, his hands twitching slightly, but he doesn't do anything else. In the end, he sighs and just shakes his head before grabbing her wrist, almost _too carefully_ , and pulling it away from his heart. "You're going to be the death of me, Yukari."

She frowns. "How so?"

He shakes his head again. "Aren't the fireworks soon? Don't let my dumb depression keep you—"

"Your depression is _not_ dumb—"

He cuts her off. "Come on, let's go. I know just the spot."

The way he changes the subject irks her, but before she could really protest, he's already leading her to some place that only he would know.

* * *

There's a small hill right next to the shrine, and from there she could see Amada and Aragaki enjoying the lights and the atmosphere.

Makoto greets the pair in a subdued voice before he leads her further, into the spot where there's nothing and no one else but the fireflies and the evening breeze that would keep them company. He gestures at a stone bench under a cherry blossom tree. While it's regrettably not the season for the pink petals to fall, the tree itself is still quite a sight.

She accepts his invitation and sits down, and he joins her, leaving a bit of a distance between them. When she's quite sure no one would notice, she calls for his attention with a hiss. When he looks at her, she points down, and doesn't wait for his reply as she pulls his hand out of his pocket and starts playing with it, like she always does when they're alone.

She pulls him closer (maybe against his wish, but she just doesn't care at this point) and sets his hand in her lap as she pushes his fingers open with hers, rubbing at the scarred (there are more and more scars every time she does this) fingertips, at the knuckles, at his palm. His hand is growing more callous each and every day, but she doesn't really mind it.

He looks like he wants to say something, but it seems he just scraps the idea and says something _else_ , instead. "You really like playing with my hand, huh?"

"Duh, it's fun," She says, still creating the blueprint of his hand with hers. "What? You don't like it?"

"…No," He mumbles quietly, heaving out a sigh. "You know what? That hand is already yours, at this point. Just do whatever you want with it."

"Ehehe," She giggles quietly, before finally interlacing her fingers with his, like she always does. His hand is a little tenser than usual tonight, but it's still warm. She doesn't mind it.

They sit there in silence, waiting for the fireworks to light up the night sky. He quietly scrolls through the playlist, his brows a little furrowed, before he puts the earphones on and seems to repeatedly click at the volume button. She could see the volume bar being over-maxed, and he sighs again before letting the MP3 falls to his chest.

"Why are you trying to listen to music during a time like this?" She asks, flipping his hand over slightly so she would have better access to his thumb.

He frowns. "Just to make sure I won't go into a panic attack if the noise is too loud."

…Oh.

"Oh, uh—"

"S'okay, it's not like I've told you _everything_ about myself," He says with a low hum and an apologetic look, again. She really hates the way he blames himself for everything. He doesn't have PTSD by _choice_ , goddamnit. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Just enjoy the show."

"I'll not enjoy this _alone_ , you _idiot_ ," She mutters, tugging at his hand a bit more. "Really, if you're not okay with this, we can leave—"

" _No_ ," He says with finality, disallowing her from ever retorting. She frowns – he rarely forces issues with _anyone_ , but when he does, she just knows that one should never, _ever_ refuse him. He just looks at her for a moment longer. "I _want_ to be here. _With you_."

The way that he breathes those last few words really send a _pleasant_ shiver down her spine.

She ignores it. She also _tries_ to ignore the heat creeping up her face as she returns her gaze towards the sky, her fingers still idly touching his hand. The silence is giving her maybe a bit too much time to contemplate on things, and whether that is a good thing or not remains to be seen.

The fireworks are but a few minutes away, and as she runs her fingers up his wrist until she finally stops at the wristwatch, she realizes absently that maybe, just _maybe_ … this is not something just _friends_ would be doing. Holding hands while he's breaking down and hyperventilating is justifiable, but doing this when everything's alright _and_ enjoying it? It's questionable.

Fuuka's question returns to her mind yet again, and she has to resist the urge to blush. Still, heat creeps up her cheek, and she looks away slightly. She could feel his eyes looking at her, a bit confused. She doesn't respond and looks away a bit more. Now all she's doing is having his hand in hers and running her thumb across the scars around his wrist, maybe even a bit too zealously.

She feels him shivers under the pad of her finger as she drags it along a long scar at the underside of the wrist after she takes off his watch. She frowns slightly when her mind starts to actually realize the significance of the wound's placement—

"…Suicide attempt?" She whispers, unsure, her thumb stops moving as she looks down at it. The absence of light makes it hard for her to make out much, but she could still see a long, faint scar that has almost disappeared into the creases of his wrist.

He tenses a little, but answers in a somber voice. "…Self-Harm."

"When?"

It looks new to her. Most of his new scars feel just like this – a bit soft. This one? It's recent. _Very_ recent, and she doesn't like it.

It takes him a while. "I don't remember."

"Liar," She calls him out instantly. The hesitation in his voice is a dead giveaway. He _does_.

"You caught me," He murmurs with a mirthless smile as he looks up at the night sky, still waiting for the display of lights to adorn the dark. He then sighs. "That one was right after I tried to strangle you."

"… _What_."

Her hand unconsciously clenches around his, making him jump a little, but he doesn't pull away. She looks back down, tracing the scar again. There are _more than one_ here, she realizes – not deep enough to make the scars stand out, but the location… they must've hurt when he did it.

She sets her lips into a tense line. "Makoto—"

"It's how I coped with everything," He cuts her off with a low murmur, looking down at the ground. "The pain keeps my head clear. When it's too much, I just… kind of did it. Carefully."

"Why here, of all places?"

"Wristwatch," He answers almost immediately. He _planned_ them. He planned every last one of them, and the notion of him cutting himself up just to be able to _think_ pains her. When he sees her expression, he only offers her a sad smile. "I'm sorry."

"I just wish I was able to help sooner," She murmurs as she forces the tears back down. She won't cry, not in front of him. He's already seen enough for a lifetime, and she refuses to add her sadness to his plate. "I just wish you'd be able to ask for help sooner."

He laughs quietly. "Me too."

She keeps her fingers there, light and careful, tracing the scars that until now had never been brought to her attention. It makes her thinks about whether or not he has more than this – and she could only whimper at the thoughts of him bringing the blade down onto his own flesh. She shakes her head and keeps her focus on exploring his wrist instead, trying to distract herself from the morbid thoughts, at least for tonight.

Luckily enough, the fireworks start lighting up the night, loud bangs accompanied by tiny spots of colors that expand and blanket the sea of dark. She has never really had a chance to appreciate one before, so she could only look on in awe at the beauty of it all.

"They're so pretty," She breathes, eyes glued to the night sky.

"Yeah," He hums. "They are"

She thinks she hears him whispers something else after that, but the sounds of the erupting fireworks drown him out, so she isn't too sure.

What she's sure, however, is that for the first time… she's starting to acknowledge that her feelings towards him are already far _more_ than being mere _friends_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah, this. A bit on the lighter side, I guess?
> 
> Also, I just finished another TWO Chapters! That puts me only four left before the finish! Hooray!
> 
> ...XX Judgement is like 11k words so Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
> 
> Anyways, see y'all in a few days! Ba-bye!


	8. VII: The Wild Chariot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can't allow himself to get any closer to her than he already is. It's far too dangerous.
> 
> "Can't you just talk to me about it or something?" She mumbles, touching the wound carefully.
> 
> I can't. "Okay. I'll do that later."
> 
> He thinks she's looking strangely at him, but he ignores it, and in the end, she decides to continue playing with his hand. Neither of them speaks any more words for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! As promised, one before my exam! Woot woot! XD
> 
> This is a bit atypical. Action-packed (it's hard), so hope you enjoy.
> 
> Don't worry, heavy angst will come next chapter, you can be sure of that!

**_VII: The Wild Chariot_ **

_Chariot: Direction, Control, Willpower_

_Reversed Chariot: Lack of Control, Lack of Direction, Aggression_

* * *

Aragaki is a really nice person.

Makoto is glad he gets to know him like he does.

What is _not_ nice, however, is when he learns just how overprotective the man is, especially towards _him_ , of all people.

"Yuuki, c'mere a sec," The man calls, waving him over. Sometimes (a lot of times) (most of the time?) his therapy sessions would run a bit late, and Aragaki would be the one to pick him up. He doesn't mind that, but having Aragaki fussing over him is so _wrong_ on so many levels.

He shrugs and discards the thoughts before walking over, tugging his school bag carefully under an arm. When he reaches the man, he gets a soft head pat before getting a _look_ from the taller man.

"…What?"

"I saw the way you look at her at the festival," The man hums.

" _Fuck_."

"Yep, you ain't all that discreet, Yuuki. Why don't you just tell her?" He asks as they start walking towards the station.

He works his jaws a little — he could still feel the drugs' side effects, that's just _great_ — and tries to think of a way to deflect that question. The look the older boy is giving him, however, is discouraging him from doing just that. He groans into his own hand before mumbling. " _You_ , of all people, should know best _why_."

Another hum. "True. Still, I think the feelings are mutual between you two."

"I know," He says. It's hard to miss the way she's now _actively_ seeking his hand whenever they're alone, or the way she'd blush when looking at him for too long, or the way she _cares_. It hurts. It hurts like hell. "But I _can't_."

"You deserve love, you know," Aragaki says as he looks up at the moon, now nothing but a thin crescent of light in the sky. When he says nothing, the man adds. "You taught me that yourself."

"Not _this_ kind of love," He whispers. "I'm fine with friendships. Hell, I'm even fine with brotherhood. But not this kind of love. I don't want to kill another person by getting _too_ close."

He doesn't even know he is shaking until Aragaki puts his strong but gentle arm around his shoulders, hugging him, stabilizing him, calming him down. He exhales a few times to get his raging pulses under control, fists clenched into balls, nails digging deep into his own flesh, deepening the scars further.

"I know," Aragaki says, patting his shoulder lightly in assurance. "I know."

He bites back whatever feeling is trying to break free from his chest and chews on his tongue until the familiar scent of steel reaches his nose. "I _want_ to, so bad. I want to be there. I want to _always_ be there, but I'm going to drag her to hell with me if I do, and I can't allow it to happen."

"I know you _won't_." Aragaki states. They stop when they reach the platform, and the older boy pats his head a bit more, ruffling his hair softly. "Yuuki, their deaths weren't on you. Death doesn't follow you around—"

"But it _does_ ," He hisses through gritted teeth. "All the people I love are dead _because I was there_. I don't want to lose another person like that."

"Death does _not_ follow you around," He snaps, and forcefully turns his head so he'd have to look into Aragaki's eyes as he continues in a low voice, his chest rumbling as if Castor is shifting and turning inside. "It is everywhere and nowhere. You didn't put a noose around their necks or point a gun to their heads. They died while you were with them, but none of it is your fault."

He wants to tear his eyes away, but he can't.

"Their deaths are unfortunate, but you ain't the one to blame. Do you think they'd want you to live like this? Alone and scared?"

"I don't know," He murmurs. He doesn't want to think about any of this. It hurts. It hurts a _lot_.

"Just sleep on it, 'kay?" Aragaki hums, patting his head again before pulling his arm away. "I'll treat you to a warm dinner, and no, I ain't letting your sorry, skinny ass refuses."

He could only let out a chuckle at that. "Okay… thank you, Aragaki-senpai."

"Thank _you_ , too, for givin' me a reason," He says.

 _A reason to live_.

Makoto doubts that, but he doesn't say it.

Because he wants to believe that, just for a moment, even if it is a lie.

* * *

Summer is slow.

He spends half of it going to therapy, the other half just hanging out with mostly Aragaki to talk about things only he would understand. Being able to open up about the things he regrets doing, or the things that make him numb and cold, or the things that make him panic, helps. The older boy is a good listener, and a great shoulder to lean on.

However, he still couldn't really wrap his head around what the older boy had said. He thinks the concept is not dissimilar to him, since he himself urges Aragaki to do just that, but _him_ deserving love is a different topic entirely.

Aragaki killed a human being because Castor, not _him_ , went berserk. He did neither willingly nor consciously wring the life out of Amada's mother slowly and painfully with his own hands. He's still paying the price for his mistakes (mistakes, and not _murders_ ) of his own free will. As for Makoto? He's still left to his own devices, the only toll he has to pay is his mental health (which is easy to ignore) and maybe a bit of his sanity.

He understands where Aragaki is getting at, but he doesn't _accept_ it.

"Love, huh…"

He _loves_ Yukari. That is a painfully obvious truth no longer deniable by his heart and soul. And he is fine feeling, but not acting, that way. She deserves better than a piece of broken glass that would only cut and make her bleed needlessly. She deserves to love someone else that would be able to take care of her, and not the other way around.

He can't do any of that for _anyone._ He shifts and rolls onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He has to wonder what they saw in him to actually take him into the SEES in the first place, or to put him as the team leader when his mental capacity is at rock bottom. He doesn't understand the level of concern they're showing him – he could understand Aragaki's as an attempt at redemption, maybe.

But he could never understand Yukari. He could never understand the reason why she'd show such level of care, of _love_ , of things he doesn't deserve, of things he shouldn't have. Every time he tries to question it, she would always reply that the reasons are not necessary to save someone.

They are _always_ necessary, in his mind. _Always_ , no matter who you are, no matter who the other person might be.

Before his thoughts can go any further, there's a knock on his door. He gets up with a small sigh before heading towards the door and open it, only to be met with the subject of his torment. His _sun_. So bright and _scorching_.

"Hey," Yukari says, fidgeting on her feet slightly.

"Hey," He replies softly, eyes carefully gauging her reactions. It's been almost two weeks after the summer festival, and he finds that she's been coming to his room or catching him when he's loitering in the lounge a lot more often than maybe she should. And her reasons? "Can I help you?"

There is only one thing that she would ask of him, and while his head knows he should refuse, his heart doesn't (couldn't).

"Um… the usual, if you don't mind?"

 _I do mind_ , he thinks absently, but couldn't bring himself to say it. Every time, the thought would come up, and it would disappear into the sea of words he never gets to say out loud. He inwardly smacks himself in the face, but outwardly gives her a small smile and steps away from the door.

He thinks she's way too familiar with his room, maybe even more so than the kitchen, but he has already rescinded his rights to complain when he allows her in the first… four times, he thinks. She just smiles back at him as she makes herself right at home, walking towards his bed and sitting down, leaning back with both arms propping herself up, legs kicking the air leisurely.

He closes the door then walks over to join her, sitting with only a bit of space between them. Silence fills the atmosphere as sounds of the crickets and the TV he left on fills the background. They sit like that, still and quiet, for maybe a few minutes before she gently puts her hand over his left (it's always his left, and he never asks why) and pulls it to her lap.

She claims playing with his hand helps with whatever problem she's having. Sometimes it's stress, other times it'd be her mother. (He did talk with her about her mother's issues a few times, and he thinks he's getting through. Maybe he just needs a bit more time). But lately, she doesn't even try to give him a reason for doing this, just giggling and smiling at him while she caresses the scars with care and sends chills and shivers and electricity up his arm and down his spine.

He likes the feeling, maybe too much for his own good. He wants to keep his distance, but he can't, because he's afraid of losing her as a friend. He couldn't refuse, because he's afraid she would go away, that she would leave and never come back. But each and every time she does this, the louder the voice in his head is bellowing at him that it's getting out of control, that he should cut the ties before she's too close, that he should _save her_ while she's still far enough away from him.

His train of thoughts is derailed into oblivion as she starts massaging his palm, pressing at all the right spots and forcing his body to relax almost against his will. He sighs, content, and flexes his fingers slightly.

She giggles and pushes his fingers open with hers, before finally, _finally_ interlacing their digits together, pressing her own soft palm against his as she gives it a light squeeze. "You look like you enjoyed that."

 _I did_. "You think so?"

"Mhm, because you were smiling. You still _are_."

He frowns a little, but decides not to ask about it. He doesn't really want to embarrass himself any more than he should. "I see."

She only smiles before she turns his hand over, fingers tracing along his thumb and up to his wrist. She doesn't bother asking for permission anymore and just unfasten the strap of his watch and runs her fingers along his fresh self-made stigmata. "Do they hurt?"

"No," He replies. They only sting a little bit, sometimes. He read up human anatomy just to make sure that the damage won't last. If he's not able to appear normal (or _fight_ , now that he's with the SEES), it would not have been a good way to… clear his head.

"You haven't made any new ones, right?"

He pauses.

And she catches on right away. "…Makoto?"

He sighs and pulls his hand away before rubbing at his own wrist, at the scar that's usually neatly hidden underneath his watch, before he traces his own hand up his arm and to the crook of his elbow. And then he points at it; a small, 1-cm long cut too imperceptible to be noticed at a glance.

"…Why?" She asks, pulling the elbow towards her and takes a good look at the cut. Her voice is trembling, and it looks like she's on the verge of crying. "I thought you're better now?"

"…The therapy's stressful," He murmurs. It's not a lie, but it's only _half_ truth, maybe even less. The main reason he's doing this is to keep his head straight.

He can't allow himself to get any closer to her than he already is. It's far too dangerous.

"Can't you just talk to me about it or something?" She mumbles, touching the wound carefully.

 _I can't_. "Okay. I'll do that later."

He thinks she's looking strangely at him, but he ignores it, and in the end, she decides to continue playing with his hand. Neither of them speaks any more words for the night.

* * *

The Full Moon Shadow can go suck a dick.

Again, Makoto might've been a bit too fond of that expression, but he really doesn't care anymore.

His whole body hurts like hell. The thing kept trying to fire lightning bolts at Yukari, which prompted him to prioritize protecting her over himself. He's lucky that Aragaki packs quite a serious punch, and is the keystone to bringing the Hermit Shadow down tonight. If not for him, things might've gone to shit much, _much_ sooner.

However, no happiness ever last.

He doesn't know what's the trigger (yet), but after a moment, Aragaki suddenly steps back, hands on his chest. He ignores the burns in his lungs and the jolts of electricity through his body as he gets to his feet, his hand to his Evoker in a heartbeat. And Aragaki _knows_ – he turns to Makoto, and mouths the few words he said he wished he would never need to say.

 _Stop me_.

He fires his Evoker against his temple at the same time Castor manifests against Aragaki's wish. It rears back and bellows, stomping and crushing the Shadow to pieces before it flies up and towards Amada. Oumitsunu responds to his will and jumps forward, standing in Castor's way and pushing it back. He runs over to Aragaki and pulls him out of the way as his Persona and the one-legged knight crash.

"Senpai!" He snaps, a hand firm on the older boy's shoulder, another gripping his Evoker tight. Castor, as expected, hit like a runaway freight train. If he's any weaker, he'd be dead in a heartbeat. "You have to reign him in."

"I _can't!_ " Aragaki gasps.

" _Bullshit!_ " He snaps. And when the man looks up at him, he points at himself. "Persona is a _part of you!_ It is _you!_ You can control it. Believe me!"

"But—"

He grabs both of Aragaki's shoulders and forces the older boy to look him in the eyes. "I would know. _I_ , of all people, would know. You can't control it because you're angry _at yourself._ You _hate_ yourself. So it responds by going berserk, because its anger and hatred come from you!"

Aragaki's eyes widen. He got the message.

 _You have to forgive yourself, before you can control your anger_ – _before you can control Castor_.

"It doesn't have to be now," He whispers, only for the man to hear. "But you have to. You _must_. I'll help, so you can lean on me, too."

He doesn't wait for the answer before he turns against the raging Castor, and fires his Evoker again. This time, he calls for his original Persona, _Orpheus_. If Aragaki's going to tame the personification of his own self-hatred and anger, he needs to know that _someone_ will be there to help him through it.

Makoto doesn't like exposing himself like this. But he knows he's the only one who understands the pain the older boy is experiencing, the guilt he's going through. Makoto's case might not be the same as his, but he can understand. They're different, yet they're the same.

"You and your freakishly annoying martyr-complex ass…" Aragaki mutters, trying to keep his breathing steady. His hand fumbles for the axe as he gets up and stands beside him. Makoto spies Sanada nodding at them before pulling out his own Evoker. "I guess you're right. But you're gonna have to _forgive yourself_ , too, or you're going to be one big fucking _hypocrite_."

 _I already am one, though_. "Fine," He murmurs, a frown on his face. He won't, he knows that much, but he still has to make that promise if he's going to actually _save_ the man from himself.

A second later, all hell breaks loose.

Castor's rampages seem to have been amped up a notch or two, and despite the SEES's best effort, containing it is much harder than a Full Moon Shadow, partly because of how _fast_ it is. He barely manages to drag Amada – who's staring at Aragaki with the realization he knows is going to come sooner or later – out of harm's way. He shouts at Yukari to take care of the boy before ducking under the single hoof of the unchained Persona.

"Aki, don't tell me that you've lost your edges already!?" Aragaki shouts, as if to provoke his best friend as he axes the flying debris away from his face.

"Oh _shut up_ , Shinji—"

"This isn't the _time_ , you _idiots!_ " Kirijou cuts them all off as Penthesilea manifests and covers Castor in a large, frigid cloud, slowing its movement down. He shivers at the mere memory of the ice covering his arms and legs, but quickly shoves it away.

He _needs_ to bring Castor down in one hit, or it's going to escape him. But how—

Oh. _Oh_.

Cold, almost frozen-solid air. And _fire_.

_A large shockwave from rapidly expanding air and rising temperature._

_A self-made thermal explosion._

"Everyone!" He bellows, drawing their attentions to him as he summons Orpheus one more time. As he gets close, he orders for an attack that would effectively ends the fight. And his life, if he miscalculates even a _little_. "Get down, open your mouth, and cover your ears!"

They look confused (and he doesn't blame them), but much to his relief, they _listen_. Everyone gets to their knees, mouths slightly ajar, hands firm against their ears and temples as they watch him. He glances at Yukari, whose face turns from confusion, to realization, to _fear_ , in two seconds flat. She _knows_ what he's planning exactly.

He mouths a _sorry_ before turning his attention to Castor.

They're tired, he's injured, and ordering Orpheus to use _Agilao_ requires a certain level of concentration from his part, because if he places the initial explosion wrong, they could all get flattened against the walls and die as bloody splatters on the concrete.

He's going to have to be the only one who can't defend against the blast. _At all_.

And does he care, if he can save a life? _Of course not_.

" _Agilao!_ "

A tiny spark forms an inch from Castor's face, and then, it explodes.

He remembers being sent flying, and then, _nothing_.

* * *

When he wakes up, his ears are ringing, his vision hazy, and he's hurt all over.

He groans and tries to move, but hands are pinning him down. He could _feel_ his ribs crackling and groaning at every breath, and it hurts. It hurts like he's been beaten up by iron sticks. His ears can't pick up _shit_ , and his head is pounding, as if Castor is pissed and is striking against the inside of his skull with the thundering hoof and the angered roar.

Someone's talking. A _lot_ of someone's talking and yelling, but the blast was too bright and his eyes still couldn't adjust while his ears are practically useless. He feels something wet and warm dripping down from his ears, and he tries to put his hand to it, to feel what's happening. Someone stops him, so he doesn't fight back. He blinks, trying to at least _see_ what the hell's going on, but his eyes refuse to cooperate.

Someone then carefully cups at his cheek – _ow, that stings_ – and he tries to look ahead, squinting his eyes slightly. He sees _pink_ , so he guesses that it's Yukari. She's saying something, but he couldn't quite make it out, so he just shakes his head and tries to point at his ears again. This time, she seems to get the message, and the hand on his face is gone.

He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing. One thing at a time – that's how it always is. When he's in pain, trying to focus on doing something basic first keeps him calm. He feels a strong hand patting his head constantly, and he guesses it's Aragaki, since he _thinks_ he's familiar with this feeling. He doesn't really mind it, since it keeps his thoughts off of the pain that's growing more and more noticeable, to the point of being almost _too_ much.

When he opens his eyes a bit more, he could see a little clearer, and it's Aragaki that's petting his head, as he's suspected. When the man catches his eyes, he mouths slowly, carefully, making sure that he'd be able to pick the words out. _Thank you_.

He smiles slightly, and murmurs a _You're Welcome_ that he could feel rumbling painfully in his skull. He could still hear his own voice, so he figures his eardrums must've ruptured from the blast.

Aragaki and Sanada helps him sit up, and he groans again, a hand on his face as his vision swims. He doesn't dare to move much, and settles for staying how he is, with Aragaki steadying and keeping him up. He then spies Yukari by his side, looking relieved. She then places a careful hand on his right ear and starts healing it, probably. The light warms his skin, and he nods, murmuring a thank you to her.

He isn't sure how long he stayed like that, but when she pulls her hand away, he thinks he could hear a bit better. It still hurts, though, and the voices sound like they're speaking from far, far away. After a brief pause, he murmurs. " _Fuck_."

"Really," Aragaki says with a low chuckle. "After getting blasted by your own explosion, and getting healed by Takeba, the first thing you can think of saying is a _Fuck_."

"Yes," He mumbles. "…Sorry."

"You should be," She crosses her arms. It looks like she wants to hit him, but thinks better of it. "There should've been some other ways to go about that. Did you really need to set off an explosion? And getting caught in it yourself?"

"Kinda," He mumbles, wincing at every word. His ears are screaming at him to stop talking and listening, but he still has to. "Castor's fast. Gotta put it out in one hit or we're going to be thrown into a pain train."

"He's right," Aragaki murmurs, apologetic. He gives the man a subtle smile, and he responds with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. "But I wish you'd be able to think of a better way than that."

"No time to waste," He whispers.

"True," The man hums. "Well, let's get you to the hospital first thing first. For now, get some rest."

He doesn't have it in him to argue.

And he couldn't bring himself to face Yukari as she's giving him a scornful look, either.

* * *

When he wakes up again, it's morning.

Not unexpectedly, Aragaki is sitting right next to his bed, reading something. He groans and forces himself to sit up, and is immediately pushed back down as the older boy grumbles at him. After a moment of complete stillness, Makoto murmurs. "…Morning."

" _Afternoon_ , you dipshit," He mutters. "How're you feeling?"

He takes a moment to take in his surrounding and feeling his senses. His whole body is aching, and his mind is a bit on the slow side – probably the painkillers – although his ears are in a much better shape than… whenever the last time he's awake was. He frowns a little. "Groggy."

"Should be, with how much pain meds you're on," Aragaki says quietly. Makoto turns his head towards the bedside table, and spies a vase of _pink_ flowers, most of which he couldn't name. As if noticing his unsaid question, Aragaki continues. "Takeba visited yesterday."

"Wait," He stops the man. "How long was I out?"

"Three days."

"…Fuck."

"Yeah, really, be more careful with your life, Yuuki," Aragaki heaves out a sigh before dragging his chair a bit closer to his bed and puts a careful hand in his hair, ruffling it, like usual. He couldn't find it in him to protest, so he doesn't. "You're precious to us, you know."

He doesn't respond. He's always thought of himself as someone expendable, so the concept of him being _precious_ is still a bit new. He remembers being both surprised and _terrified_ at the aspect of being important to someone when Yukari said that to his face. He doesn't know what he's feeling, but he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it at all.

At his silence, Aragaki just sighs and shakes his head. "You know, I know you've said this before, but you _ain't_ replaceable. Hell, you're like a fucking annoying little brother to me, so take better care of yourself."

"…Okay."

"And what the hell is with that off-hand comment, huh?" Aragaki growls. "Take my words seriously for a minute, would you?"

He grits his teeth slightly and looks away.

The silence is heavy and physically painful. He doesn't dare say anything, because acknowledging that he _might_ be significant to someone (he knows he already is, to a certain someone) means that they're too close, and they might get hurt because of him, again. But instead of getting angry, or whatever he was expecting, the older boy just smiles at him sadly.

"Yuuki, I know you still can't fully accept it, but you are an irreplaceable life, like the rest of us. So be kinder to yourself, like how you told me to. Don't be a hypocrite and give life to a person while discarding your own. That ain't a way to save someone."

He takes some time to think on it, but still, he couldn't fully accept it. "…I'll think about it."

"That's good enough for now," Aragaki murmurs. "Anyways, I noticed how Amada's looking at me. He realized, huh?"

"It's inevitable," He says. "You should talk to him about it."

"I think I know exactly _when_ he's going to talk," He says, looking at the calendar. "Next full moon is my birthday… and it would've been the two years anniversary of Amada mother's death."

"…Oh."

"Yeah," He murmurs, looking at his own trembling hands. Makoto doesn't know what he should say, so he opts to stay silent. Whatever look is on his face must've reminded Aragaki of their promises, because the man puts both of his hands up and says. "Hey, I still remember our promises. I'll be extra careful. Haven't met with Sakaki Takaya or any of 'em Strega for a while already, so it might not be that dangerous."

"They're _assassins_ , Senpai," He murmurs. "Don't push your luck and keep that Evoker on you at all time."

A sigh. "Alright, fine, you win."

"Thanks," He mumbles weakly. Then he remembers something – "Is Junpei—?"

"He's fine. The idiot's kidnapped by that red-haired girl from Strega."

Makoto blinks, his mind still slow on the uptake. He frowns slightly, but doesn't say anything. He thinks he'll think it over when he's a bit more awake. "…Okay."

"You look pale," Aragaki says quietly.

He nods, still feeling a bit woozy. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. When he opens them again, Aragaki is looking at him kindly. He raises an eyebrow, but the older boy doesn't give him any kind of explanation. Instead, he pats his hair (again) before standing up.

"I'mma go take a lil' walk. Just sleep tight. You can call me if you want anythin'."

"M'kay," He murmurs. "Thank you."

These past few days have been wild… he needs time to think.

And then a decision to make, about the closeness between him and Yukari that's too hazardous to ignore.

He needs to find a solution to that.

But for now, he has to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it?
> 
> I'm at 120k words total for this fic right now, and The World (XXI) sits at 10k words and growing at the moment.
> 
> Yeah, might've been a bit too in the zone there lol. Anyways, see you maybe next week if my test goes well. Or maybe not. We'll see!


	9. VIII: The Corrupted Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dude, you okay?" Junpei whispers. "You want to talk 'bout it?"
> 
> "Thanks, but no, I don't," He murmurs. He's stressed and maybe a little annoyed, judging from the way he sounds. Yukari will have to wait for later to ask. But, before that, there's another problem.
> 
> Their classmates are gossiping. Those two horrible words come up again and again, and she could see just how much more agitated Makoto gets after only a few minutes.
> 
> She wants to scream at them to stop, but Junpei stops her with a look while Aigis (when the hell was she there?) just keeps an eye on Makoto as he flops his head onto his crossed arms on the table.
> 
> They're going to break him if this keeps up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CAN'T NOT POST THIS.
> 
> ...Test is looming and I still gotta write, somehow, what the fuck is wrong with me lol.
> 
> Anyways! Don't let me keep you!

**_VIII: The Corrupted Justice_ **

_Justice: Justice, Consequences, Law, Truth, Cause and Effect_

_Reversed Justice: Injustice, Dishonesty, Corruption_

* * *

"…Care to explain why?"

It's the first thing she thinks of saying once Aragaki is gone, and she's alone with him. He still looks a bit dazed, a little pale and bruised, but she _knows_ he's alright now.

He looks her way, lips pursed. His eyes say that, yes, he does know exactly what she's talking about. Him flinging himself into harm's way for someone else's sake is commendable, and she is _proud_ , but _this_ is not how he should do it. There should've been some other way to stop Castor. There are many of them, after all — she's sure he could've thought of, well, _something_ other than literally blowing himself up.

He looks away from her, and she sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting down beside the bed. When she's sure he's going to remain silent, she takes his right hand into hers and squeezes it gently, drawing his curious (and slightly red) face to her.

She sighs. "So? Are you going to say anything?"

He frowns a little before finally nodding. "…I'm not sure how to put this, but… I just don't see any other way."

"There are _six_ of us who could've done something about it, Makoto, don't be ridiculous—"

"—But I don't want any of you to get hurt," He says, tugging his hand away from her grip and to his own chest. She doesn't push him.

"We're not weak, you know."

"I know."

She sighs, this time exasperated. He turns defensive very quickly when she wants to ask something. She thinks she knows why he's being this way, and his answers just prove it; he still thinks himself _less_ than the rest of the team. Which means he puts everyone before his own safety. She understands that, but this is just _ridiculous._

"Makoto," She tries again, voice low, brows slightly furrowed. "I know what you're thinking. You think you're less than us, but that's not true. We're in this together. We're _friends._ Learn to lean on us — on _me_ — sometimes, okay?"

"I don't want you to end up—" He says, before cutting himself off completely, his eyes avoiding hers. She just frowns and waits for an eternity for him to say something more. He does, quietly, _scared_. "…I don't want history to repeat themselves."

"What history?" She asks, frowning.

Fear is the first thing she notices crossing his steel gray eyes. And then, there's nothing. Whatever it is that's on his mind, he just wipes it off and looks away from her.

"Makoto—" She begins, trying to get him to talk, to open up a little more.

And she's met with immediate resistance. "…Stop, just… stop."

She looks at him a while longer before sighing again. Whatever the issue is, it's a bit deeper than she had originally thought, and pushing him will do her no good. So instead, she just smiles, and pulls at his hand a little. He turns to look at her, and she murmurs. "I'll stop. Just… let me play with your hand. I still have time before I have to go back."

At this, he looks like he wants to say something, but doesn't in the end. His hand relaxes into her fingers, and she hums, satisfied.

For now, keeping him company is the best she could do. And maybe, someday… she might be able to help him more than just this, too.

* * *

He's… more distant.

And only to her, too.

What the heck?

"Fuuka," She says, tugging at the navigator's sleeve when Makoto avoids her and goes straight back up the stairs and probably to his room. He's been like that since he's discharged from the hospital, and she is so damn confused. When her friend gives her a hum, she murmurs. "Why's he avoiding me?"

"I have no idea. It's not like you did anything, did you?" She says, eyes following hers to the shadow casting over the staircase. Yukari winces a little; she _did_ give him a little scolding over his recklessness during the last full moon, but that was it. "But I mean, he still lets you into his room and play with his hand—"

"I've never told anyone that!" She's red to the ears. Goddamnit, she must be really easy to read if Fuuka can tell that she's been doing that a lot more often. And here she thought she's discreet, too.

"I'm not going to say anything about it, then," The other girl hums. "Well, have you tried talking to him yet?"

"I did," She sighs. "He didn't say anything. But if I asked to play with his hand, he'd readily agree. Or rather, it looks like he didn't want to refuse."

The first day back from the hospital and he didn't say a word to her from morning to evening, but when she knocked on his door to ask to play with his hand, his face had looked torn and tormented. But he did relent, in the end. The process kept repeating itself for a few days, now, and today she thinks she's going to force the issue a bit more to get an answer out of him.

"Well, what're you waiting for, then? I'm the only one here right now, so sneaking in should be easy," She hums, nudging Yukari in the rib slightly.

Fuuka's a reliable friend, a really good friend. But sometimes she thinks the girl might be a bit too observant for her own good. Then again, she's the navigator of their groups, so being able to perceive the smallest of details should be a given.

She sighs. "Fuuka, one of these days your teasing is going to send my face straight into the furnace, and I'll come back to haunt you for an eternity and a half for it."

The other laughs. "Oh come on, I'm not that bad, am I? Now go, before the others get back."

Yukari rolls her eyes, but take her friend's advice and gets up.

The way to his room is more familiar to her than the way to the roof, at this point. Going there for almost every single day for the past two and something weeks would do that, she supposes. And it's not like she dislikes it, either. He did seem a bit strange before, but after the fight with the Hermit Shadow, he seems… even more off. It's like he's intentionally trying to create some distance between them, but it looks like he could only manage to half-ass it.

He gives off a weird vibe she couldn't describe. One thing that she could tell, however, is that he's going to _destroy_ himself from within if this keeps up.

She stops in front of his door, the obviously changed locks a sight for sore eyes. The discoloration is way too obvious, but she doesn't think he'd care about it. After a sigh, she knocks softly on his door and steps back slightly to wait.

It doesn't take long before he opens it, his face passive, save for the same deep-seated pain that seems to grow stronger every time she looks at him. They stare at each other for a while before he curls his lips into that small, captivating smile (…she thinks she has a problem if she's starting to think in _that_ direction every time he smiles) before murmuring. "Good evening."

"Evening to you, too," She says quietly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "Um… can I come in?"

As usual, he looks like he _wants_ to refuse. In the end, however, he opens the door wider and steps away. She takes his invitation and enters the room and, as per usual, goes straight for his bed.

She sits down first, and pats the spot to her right. He reluctantly walks over and sits down next to her, his hands clasped together. They stay like that for a while before she speaks up. "So… can we talk?"

He closes his eyes and sighs. "What is it?"

If she asks for his hand or whatever, he'd just resign to his fate and agree. But whenever she tries to pry something out of him, he could turn defensive – and even a bit _hostile_ – really quickly, much like at the hospital. She bites back her urge to retort and questions. "Why are you trying to avoid me?"

He _feigns_ the look of ignorance, because his quirked brows could not hide the obvious discomfort in his pair of steel grays anymore. "I am not."

"You _are_ ," She hisses, looking straight at him. "It looks like you always want to keep your distance from me, but can't in the end. I'm not idiotic enough to _not_ notice that, you know."

He looks at her for a while before tearing his gaze away. He scratches the back of his neck before letting out one long, shaky breath. "…Aragaki-senpai is right, I _am_ an idiot."

What does Aragaki have anything to do with this?

"Well?" She presses on, arms crossed. "I'm not leaving until I get an answer, you know."

"I'm aware," He murmurs, his hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose. The look in his eyes is not a good one, and she outright _hates_ it. What is it, though? She couldn't quite place her finger on, but it looks so… _familiar_. It's like she's seen it there before. "You won't be happy with the answers."

"I don't care," She snaps. "I want honesty from you. So?"

He works at his jaw a little. "Do you want me to sugarcoat it?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" She hisses at him, anger and _fear_ mixing together in the pit of her stomach. He's a very dear friend, and even an inkling of that friendship ( _it's already more than just that_ ) being threatened terrifies her. She suppresses her uneasiness and the tremor in her voice as she presses on harder. "Just tell me the truth already."

"…Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I am."

He frowns, his eyes looking at the wall ahead of him. The anxiousness in her is at its peak, and the anger that would accompany it is right around the corner. She doesn't want to wait for the answer. But she has to, because if she presses harder now, she's going to _snap_ when he refuses to respond.

He inhales deeply once. "I don't want you here."

It takes her maybe a bit too long than it should to actually realize what he'd just said. And when the sentence _does_ sinks it, she could feel her anger and _fear_ rising and breaking out of their confinements as she hisses out, low and threatening. "… _What_."

"I don't want you here," He repeats, but refuses to look her way. He clenches his hands tighter, his jaws set. Yukari could practically hear his teeth grinding themselves to dust. "I don't want you around. It's annoying."

He's lying. He's _lying_ to her face and she _knows_ , because it doesn't explain _anything_.

"Liar," She whispers.

"I'm not lying," He says.

"LIAR!" She screams at him, her restraint hitting its limit as she stands up and grabs the scruff of his neck, pulling him to face her as she shakes at him. She could feel him trembling, she could see the pain in his eyes, she could notice the uneasiness. None of his words makes sense. "You're lying! You must be! You _have to be!_ If you didn't want me around, you would've pushed me away a long time ago!"

His voice is quiet, and he's looking away, his body laxed – too laxed, perhaps. "I didn't because I have to make it up to you, somehow. But the longer you're with me, the more uneasy I feel."

" _Lair_ ," She could feel her control slipping away as he continues to lie, lie, _lie_ through his teeth. His words and his tone and his eyes do _not match_. They make no sense. "You make no sense. None of your words makes any sense! What the _hell_ , Makoto!? Why are you pushing me away now, of all times!?"

"I'm not lying," He repeats again, as if it would convince her, as if it would convince _himself_.

"Makoto!"

"I'm not fucking lying!" His voice rises in volume, so much so that it shocks her into silence. He never yells at a person in _anger_ ; even in Tartarus or during the Full Moon Operation, his orders might be loud, but it's not with fury. This time, it's like his anger – cold and suppressed inside – has finally reached the tipping point and is splitting its cage open, spilling itself all over. "I'm _not_ fucking lying to you, so just _shut up!_ Shut up and get out! _Get out of my sight!_ "

He's pushing her away.

He's pushing her away without a good reason, and while that little voice knows that something is amiss, she ignores it in favor of allowing her own rage to take control. Without even thinking, she _slaps_ him, hard enough for his cheek to bloom in red on contact, whipping his face to the side by the force. He doesn't retaliate, not with force, not with words, and remains silent, seated, his fingers digging into the bed sheets. He's shaking slightly, but she just couldn't give it a thought anymore.

"Then _you_ can also go to hell, for all I care!" She snaps, reasons disappearing into the wind. All she could see is red, painting her world in a monotonous color of her own fear. She doesn't bother trying to stop the tears that spill out of her eyes, and just screams at him. "You are horrible! You _lie_ and you _hurt me!_ You can just go screw yourself, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Her legs lead her away from him and out of the room before she could get the chance to think twice.

* * *

She doesn't know what to do.

She just wants to apologize, to talk, to find out why the hell would he say that, but he just shut himself off, cutting her out completely, mercilessly, uncompromisingly. He talks with Junpei like normal, he chats with Fuuka sometimes, but he _refuses_ to acknowledge even her _existence_ , and it _hurts_.

One thing she notices, though, is that he seems to talk to Aragaki more. _A lot more_.

Kirijou had called the two of them into another private chat, having seen and felt the tension between them. Makoto outright said that it won't affect their performances (it's a lie), and when she seconded it, the heiress dropped the issue.

She hates it, the way he closes himself off like that. She never understands why, and she _wants_ to. Him giving her the cold shoulder _hurts_. She misses his touch. She misses his presence. She misses _him_ , and she just wants to at least bring back their friendships, if she could. But the door to that path is already closed to her – her anger made sure of that. Slapping him and telling him to screw off like she did doesn't help. If she hadn't said all those horrible things, it might have changed the outcome.

He chooses to cut her off. And it hurts so much she just cries and cries until her tears dried up. And now that she could think a bit straighter, clearer, she needs someone she'd be able to talk about this to, because if she's left to her own devices, she might do something she'll regret later on.

A few days later, she finds herself at Fuuka's door.

The girl opens the door almost as quickly as Makoto (he's faster), and doesn't wait for her to say a word before dragging her inside and closing the door. A few minutes later, she says. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," She murmurs, playing with her own hands. She misses _everything_ about him. "I _need_ to."

"Okay," Fuuka hums, sitting on the bed next to her.

She spends exactly 275 seconds (she counts that, somehow) sitting there, not a word leaving her mouth. The other doesn't rush her, either. All she does is giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. When she's sure she won't break down into series of ugly, uncontrollable sobs, she murmurs. "I miss him, and I don't know what to do."

"I know," Fuuka whispers, petting her head lightly, her knee nudging at Yukari's own. "I'm sorry. Can you tell me what exactly happened?"

She nods.

Recounting the events is physically and mentally taxing, to the point that Fuuka had to force her to stop in the middle multiple times to stop her from breaking into pieces. She hates recalling the way his body seemed to her, tense and maybe a little bit scared, or the way he looked, or the way his voice shattered at the tail end of his outburst. She doesn't like any of it. She _hates_ it. But she doesn't know how to help, and her anger made it all so much worse.

After she's done, Fuuka doesn't speak right away, instead gripping her hand and squeezing it lightly, in reassurance that she's still there. Yukari wants to cry again, but her tears are all dried up, at this point. After a while, Fuuka hums. "You know, it might not've looked it, but even after all that he's said and done… he still _loves_ you, Yukari-chan."

"Is he really?" She whispers, hugging her own arms, recalling the way he looked — small and fragile, on the verge of breaking — after she slapped him. No sane person would forgive her after the things she had said and done. "It's not possible."

"In Tartarus," Fuuka begins, rubbing circles on her back absently. "His attention is always on you. He cares for all of us, even if he doesn't show it, and we all know that. But his attention _for you_ is different. I would know; Lucia allows me to see that much. He _loves_ you still, Yukari-chan."

"Then why?" She whimpers. "Why did he push me away like that? What's he thinking?"

"I—"

Before Fuuka gets the chance to respond, someone knocks on her door, loudly. Yukari makes a face, and turns to Fuuka, who looks at the door with a slight, but uncharacteristic, frown. She gives the girl a nod that it's okay (she needs to _breathe_ anyway), prompting the navigator to open the door.

To her surprise (since it's almost against the dorm's regulations), it's Aragaki. He is about to say a word when he sees her, and stops himself. Fuuka then sighs. "It's okay, Senpai. What can I help you with?"

"The same thing," Aragaki says, heaving out a sigh as he looks towards the stair. "Refuse to go no matter what, and I can't drag 'im there against his will. So I'm stuck taking care of 'im."

She has no idea what the older boy is talking about, but Fuuka does as she walks back in and grabs a box hidden under her desk. "You can use these. I'll get a new set later on."

"Thanks," Aragaki murmurs, glancing at her again before turning his eyes to the box. "Seriously, I can understand therapy sessions going badly and maybe triggering episodes sometimes, but causing him to self-destruct like this is just _ridiculous_."

"Can't you do anything about it? You're closet to him, aren't you?"

Another sigh. They're talking about _Makoto_ , there's no two ways about this. But… self-destruction? What the hell are they on about? Yukari wants to ask, but she decides to continue listening. She does _not_ want Aragaki to come after her ass, _ever_.

"Doesn't mean he'll tell me everything," The man says, frown deepening slightly. "Hell, telling me as much as he did is already a miracle."

"I… see," Fuuka murmurs. "…Do take care, Senpai."

"Duly noted."

When the man leaves, she speaks before she could stop herself. "What's wrong with Makoto?"

"Nothing much," Fuuka says ( _lies_ ) flatly, closing the door and walking over. After sitting down next to her, Fuuka makes a face. "Aragaki-senpai didn't tell me much, but from what he told me, it looks like the therapy is not going so well, and it's starting to trigger some of his bad memories again."

"…Oh," She'd never ask about the session much. If he's telling Aragaki, that means those two must've been closer than she had originally thought. She shoves the uneasiness away. "Is he okay?"

"Kind of, I guess. I wouldn't know, though," Fuuka murmurs. "Sorry."

"S'okay, not like he talks that much about anything with everyone anyways," She hums.

Still, she's lost. She doesn't know what to do, but what Fuuka says make her think that maybe, just maybe, him cutting her off is his way of trying to protect her from something.

From what, though?

"Can we talk a bit more? I could use a distraction," Yukari mumbles.

"Of course. I'd be happy to."

* * *

They both agree that, yes, Makoto was trying to protect her from something.

Still, after two days of brainstorming, _nothing_ comes to mind, at all.

She sighs and sinks into the couch, ignoring the TV and the remote entirely. She couldn't do or find out anything, so in the end she's stuck with the knowledge that he did all of it to protect her from something. If asking him is impossible, then she is truly at an impasse.

She looks out the window, at the blazing sun, and then back at the book she was trying to read and the homework that's due in two days. She can't focus on anything, so she just throws the book up into the air and lets it land wherever.

…She really is smitten, huh.

After a while, she decides that she needs to go somewhere else to distract herself from her increasingly convoluted thoughts. But when she gets up, the door practically _slams_ open, and Aragaki walks in with a scowl on his face. He stops when he catches her eyes and opens his mouth, as if to say something. In the end, he sighs and closes it.

She is about to ask him what he wants to say when Makoto follows, not even attempting to look her way, and murmurs. "Sorry about that, Senpai."

The man sighs. "Told ya it ain't your fault. Still, I'm surprised. Of all people, I didn't think Tendou would be the one to purposefully trying to _trigger_ you."

"Color me surprise when he _remembers_ me, rather," Makoto says, looking at the floor and scratching the back of his head. "Guess I'm back to square one."

"Enough of that," Aragaki says, patting his head and dragging him towards her ( _why!?_ ) before pushing him down onto the couch. She just watches him as he lets himself slide halfway off the seat, both hands over his face. Aragaki then walks over to the kitchen. "Omurice or Onigiri?"

"Onigiri, thank you," He mumbles then lets out a long, dejected groan. " _Fuck_."

"I'll headbutt the dipshit the next time I see him, I swear to god—"

"Please don't."

Aragaki looks like he wants to continue, but he takes a while to actually take in Makoto's features. She couldn't quite see his face, but the way he lets himself sinks into the couch in an uncomfortable position without caring to change it, and the way his hands are trembling, are enough to tell her that he's not ready for any more stress of any kind. The older boy sighs again and disappears behind the counter, leaving her alone with the subject of her plight.

She just sits there, a bit tamed, while Makoto remains in the same position, with his head cranes backward, eyes on the ceiling. She chews on her lip a little before deciding to bite the bullet. "What happened?"

He glances her way, his eyes tired and _defeated_. He doesn't say anything right away, but he's keeping his eyes on her for a while, long enough for anxiety to set in. In the end, he closes them and mumbles. "My shrink knows me."

"…Uh, what?"

"He knows me from _before,_ " He stresses the last word with effort as he exhales again. His hand goes back to his face, pressing firmly, as if to shut the world away. " _Fuck._ "

What does he mean by that? She wants to ask, she really does, but she doesn't think she should now, if _ever_. Instead, she settles for the phrase she's used so many times before. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," He shakes his head and lets his hands slide off his face. "I don't want to talk about _anything_."

He does. From the way he says the words slowly, as if thinking them through. He wants to, but he's still trying to keep her away.

She hates this, but she couldn't do anything else, so she just sighs in defeat; she'll make him worse, so it's best if she removes herself from the vicinity (it hurts to think that he wants her gone like this). After a while, she stands up and gathers her things.

She doesn't miss the way he looks at her when she leaves, and she doesn't know how she feels about it.

* * *

She knows the school loves rumors, but…

Isn't it getting a bit out of hand?

This morning, during her archery practice, Yukari overheard some of the club members talking about _murderer_ and _monster_ , describing someone. She didn't listen much, since rumors flying around the school are mostly baseless, anyways. Well, not until the name _Yuuki_ came up in the middle.

She couldn't hear much, but they were talking about him killing his parents on the Moonlight Bridge (all of those are over exaggeration! What the hell?) and calling him a _monster_. She didn't want to make a scene, so she ignored it.

Boy, how idiotic that decision is.

When she enters the classroom, Junpei catches her eyes, and immediately hiss while pointing at the empty seat behind her. "Yukari-cchi, where the hell is Makoto!?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" She says with a frown and puts her bag down. The class is… a bit chattier than usual. The air doesn't feel right, either. "What? I thought he left the dorm before you do."

"He did, that's the point," Junpei grunts. And then, his face turns even more sour. "Did you hear what lies they've been spouting?"

Yukari tilts her head slightly. "What lies?"

"Calling him _monster_ and _murderer_ ain't right," He hisses, anger clear in his voice. "Hell, even Kenji is starting to really _think_ about the rumor, and I don't like it. He's just awkward, calling him a monster is going way too far."

She sighs. "Tell me about it. When the hell did all these start anyways?"

"Apparently, someone's dad is a shrink working with Makoto," Junpei explains. "You can guess from there."

Oh. _Ooooooh._

That explains why the two of them look so furious (and Makoto so tired and beaten) yesterday. She bites her lip and tries to ignore the guilt crawling up her throat. So his own psychiatrist, who's supposed to be _helping_ him, is spreading false rumors about him (a _child_ ) through _and_ throughout the school. How much more mess up could this get?

The door to the class suddenly slides open, and the class falls silent when Makoto walks in with a scowl and a bandage over his left wrist. Her instinct knows immediately _why_ it's there, but she couldn't make a scene about it now. All she could do is watch as he walks over to his desk, drops the bag to the ground, and slumps onto his seat with a sigh.

"Dude, you okay?" Junpei whispers. "You want to talk 'bout it?"

"Thanks, but no, I don't," He murmurs. He's stressed and maybe a little annoyed, judging from the way he sounds. Yukari will have to wait for later to ask. But, before that, there's another problem.

Their classmates are gossiping. Those two horrible words come up again and again, and she could see just how much more agitated Makoto gets after only a few minutes.

She wants to scream at them to stop, but Junpei stops her with a look while Aigis (when the hell was she _there?_ ) just keeps an eye on Makoto as he flops his head onto his crossed arms on the table.

They're going to break him if this keeps up.

And she _has_ to do something.

* * *

They are called to the student council room at lunch.

They are all there in a heartbeat, even _Aragaki_ who had skipped classes in the morning, except for the one who should be most affected by this.

Where the hell is Makoto?

"I'm going to _beat_ that bastard into submission with my own two hands," Aragaki growls out, his voice low. He punches his own palm before spitting out with anger. "Goddamnit! And here I _recommended_ this guy to him, too!"

"It isn't your fault, Shinjirou," Kirijou says with a sigh. She frowns as she takes a look at the psychiatrist's profile, with disdain. "I'll make sure to press charge against him. Breeching a patient's confidentiality is not something a _psychiatrist_ should do."

"His panic attacks for the past _week_ ain't accidents — they're all fucking deliberate. We're lucked out he's still of sound mind," Aragaki hisses. "And now his sessions are back to square one. Just _perfect._ "

"Wait a minute," Yukari says before Junpei or Fuuka has the chance. "Panic attacks? For the past _week?_ "

Fuuka bites her lip, looking down, hands trembling.

"Yeah," The older boy murmurs. "You all saw the bandages on his wrist, didn't ya?"

Oh god.

She has to put her hands over her mouth to stop herself from saying whatever words are crawling up from her vocal cords. She spies Sanada clenching his hands around his arms, and Aragaki is grinding his own teeth into oblivion with the look in his eyes that could murder half the school with a glance. Kirijou has a contemplative look, with a lot of disgust behind it. Junpei looks both horrified and furious, and Fuuka is mimicking her expression of horror.

"They'll break him if this keeps up," She manages through her teeth. "We need to stop it before it's irreversible."

"Mitsuru and I'll take care of here," Sanada says before he looks at Aragaki. "Shinji, I'm sorry, but you are the only one he could lean on right now. He trusts you more than any of us."

"Got it."

"Let's get rid of these rumors before—"

The door suddenly slides open, interrupting Sanada and drawing their attentions to it. Fushimi and Odagiri are there, panting their lungs out. Fushimi recovers first and says in a frantic voice. "I'm sorry, but um—a fight broke out in the cafeteria! It's uh, Yuuki-san and—"

Sanada and Aragaki are already out the door at the name, and she follows closely behind.

There are commotions, loud shouts and curses and something hitting another things. The crowds are way too thick, and the teachers are forced to the edge. She sees Aragaki making his way right through the middle while fuming, Kirijou right on his tail. She follows to see one of the students she isn't familiar with being held back by her friends from the club, an ugly bluish contusion on his cheek. And—

Makoto is held back by Tomochika and Miyamoto, growling, heaving, _crying_ , like a cornered animal.

"Dad's right, you have _zero_ control and should be caged and kicked back to the streets!"

"Shut up!" Yukari snaps at him. Makoto's already too unstable, and if this person says the wrong crap again, he could send Makoto down another breakdown and that would _not_ be a good thing.

"Bitch, _he_ punched me first!"

"You're the one who started calling him _names_ in the middle of the cafeteria!" Tomochika argues, his arms still wrapped around the leader's torso. "Who in the hell would _just_ do that to someone's face!?"

"Cuz it's the truth!" The boy spits.

"Cut it off before I _punch_ you," Sanada says through gritted teeth and squeezes himself in between the two of them.

Aragaki is quick to put his arm around Makoto's trembling shoulders, his other hand ruffling his head almost reassuringly. His eyes are hard, jaws tight, as he nods at Tomochika and Miyamoto before trying to lead Makoto off. It doesn't seem like he'd let the older boy do that, though.

After a while, she could hear his voice, barely above a whisper and so, so _broken_.

"It's not like I want to be like this," He murmurs, his arms shaking, his tears flowing too freely. He doesn't look up as he continues, whispering to the silence that covers him like cloak of despair. "I didn't want any of it to happen. I didn't want to become a monster. I just want to be _normal_."

"Yuuki," Aragaki cuts him off, arm pulling the boy impossibly closer as he glares dagger at the other one as Sanada pulls him up by his shirt. "Yuuki, it ain't your fault. Calm down. Let's go someplace else for a change, yeah?"

"…Okay," The boy whispers weakly.

And then Yukari finally realizes, after hearing the rumors, after remembering how he would often blame all those people's deaths on his shoulder, after seeing him like this.

He's pushing her away to protect her—

—from _himself_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I've gotten to the last three chapters. They're depressing as all hell pls send help T_T
> 
> They're long, and this fic's going to reach 140k words shortly, I'm pretty sure. Oh well *shrugs*
> 
> See you Sunday, I hope! I'm gonna keep posting cuz I'm like 17 chapters ahead so who cares right lol


	10. IX: The Lost Hermit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He presses his lips into a thin line and closes his eyes tightly, shaking his head a little. "Please. I don't want you to come closer."
> 
> "You do," She says. "You want me to. You're just afraid of losing me. And I'm telling you—"
> 
> She presses her hand on his cheek and turns his head towards her.
> 
> She's smiling as she murmurs those words with such affection that it takes his breath away.
> 
> "—That I won't leave you. Ever."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY TEST IS DONE IM DED
> 
> Anyways, lol... only two chapters left for this long fic, and I'm at 135k words like wtf lol. The last few chapters are 10k+ each, and I can't shave it down T_T
> 
> Don't let me keep you! Here you go!

**_IX: The Lost Hermit_ **

_Hermit: Contemplation, Search for Truth, Inner Guidance_

_Reversed Hermit: Loneliness, Isolation, Lost, Recluse_

* * *

He wants to disappear.

Just curls up and dissipates into nothingness and lets Death embraces him like it did everyone else.

He clenches his teeth so hard the pain stops him from thinking (he doesn't want to think), his eyes close as he trusts Aragaki to lead the way. He doesn't care where he's being led to, he just wants to get away from reality (from this nightmare), just for a moment, no matter how brief. He wants to forget all of this. He doesn't want to _feel_ anymore.

Having feelings _hurts_. He just wants to revert back, to keep dissociating; something that hadn't happened in a while, now. He wants it to return and embrace him. He wants to disconnect from his own emotions absolutely, unmercifully, undeniably, but he _can't_. He just wants to _stop_.

He's given up his right to even back down as soon as he tries to save someone. He doesn't regret it, but at the same time, he wishes it wouldn't have taken away the choice to turn back.

He wishes he could've just turned back into a fool, ignorant and carefree (and alone), having to care about nothing but _existing_ , day by day, with no goal or purpose to guide him.

An empty existence would have been fine.

"Yuuki," He's shaken out of his stupor with a gentle arm. He blinks, eyes adjusting to the bright light of the glittering sea and the view of the entirety of Port Island from the rooftop. He doesn't (couldn't) say anything as Aragaki sits him down on the bench, with the older boy himself following suit. "We can stay here for as long as you like."

"Okay," He murmurs. He doesn't want to think. He just wants it all to stop, but he knows he _can't_.

Aragaki still keeps an arm around him, so warm and so kind, something he doesn't deserve. All that he and his broken soul should have are emptiness and solitude. He doesn't need (doesn't have the _right_ to need) anything else.

He keeps his eyes on the Moonlight Bridge, his arms still tugged towards his torso by his cold hands, his shoulders hunched. He couldn't disappear, not yet, not until October 4th comes. He wants to (has to) make sure that Aragaki will survive it, no matter what. It's the one life he could save, he can't afford to fail it, even if it's going to cost him his own.

"You know," Aragaki says softly as his free hand pats his head, like he always does, with care. "None of us believes the rumors, so don't let it bother you."

"You _should_ ," He whispers. "They're the truth."

"They made you believe they're the truth by drilling them into your head for a _decade_ , not because it's true," Aragaki counters with anger that's not meant for him. He feels his breath hitches. "Ain't no way a kind soul like you is a monster, end of story."

"Kind?" He repeats with a gasp. " _Kind?_ How could you say that when—"

"And I keep telling you that an unkind person would not have blamed themselves for deaths that were all _accidental_ and _unavoidable_ ," The man hisses right back at his protest, killing the words in his throat.

"They—"

"Were all _accidents._ Stop trying to argue against me, you ain't gonna win. I ain't letting ya."

He could only remain silent.

"You told me I should forgive myself, for killing Amada's mother," Aragaki begins, voice low, as he tightens the arm around his shoulders slightly and carefully. "Do you remember the words?"

"…Castor is a manifestation of your psyche, both the chivalrous and the dark parts, but it isn't you. You tried your best to control it, but you can't. And you're atoning for your sins even though it isn't all your fault, so you're redeemable. You should forgive yourself for the things that are out of your control," He says slowly.

"Ain't it the same with you?" He says. "Can you really control the deaths of your parents? Or stopping your foster mom from going back to the house? Hell, even the kid you strangled is partly out of your control, cuz you're just trying to _live_. You don't even know you were strangling him until you came back to your senses."

"I…"

He can't find a sound argument.

But it feels _wrong_. Not blaming their deaths on him and condemning his soul into an eternity worth of punishment is _wrong_.

"Just think about it, no need to rush," Aragaki says with a gentle smile as he pulls Makoto closer, until his head is against the taller boy's shoulder. "We still have time. Just think on it for now. We'll talk more whenever you want to."

"Okay."

He feels Aragaki shifts slightly, but he doesn't look up, eyes focusing on a tile before him. Thinking is starting to hurt, again, so he just doesn't.

"He okay?" He hears Sanada murmurs from behind him, but doesn't feel the senior coming closer. He lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes.

"Not exactly, but a bit better," Aragaki shifts again and keeps a hand on his head, gentle. "Sure as hell will be ditching classes for the rest of the day, though. How's that kid?"

"…Mitsuru took care of him," He hears shivers in the older male's voice, but dares not ask about it. The only reason would be Kirijou giving something close to what the two described as an… _execution?_

"Oof. Please remind me not to cross her too much, I don't want to die."

A pause. "That's new, coming from you. Thought you didn't care."

"…I actually do now, huh," The man hums, then pets the crown of his head again. "Thanks to this guy."

"I see," Sanada murmurs. Then, footsteps. "Then I'll leave you to it, Shinji. I'll be around if you need anything, gotta nip the rumors in the bud first."

"Alright. See you around, Aki."

After Sanada leaves, he finds his voice again and manages to croak out. "You want to live…?"

"Yeah," Aragaki hums. "Thanks to you."

It might be a lie, or it might not. He doesn't want to think too much about it, so he accepts it as a fact for now. He mumbles. "Thank _you_."

"If you're tired, you can sleep. I ain't gonna leave this spot until you wake up."

He wants to ask why — much like why Yukari refused to leave when he asked her to — but knows better than to say anything. Aragaki will get his way, no matter what. It's a losing battle, arguing with him. Makoto just exhales and nods, relaxing slightly. "If you say so."

Before he drifts off, he hears the man murmurs.

"Sweet dreams… _Makoto_."

* * *

The first thing he wakes up to is a dog — _Koromaru_ , he corrects himself — licking his hand.

He blinks in confusion a few times before sitting himself up straight, ignoring the groans of his muscles as they ache. He then looks to the side to see Aragaki tapping away at his phone, and says almost off-handedly. "How're you feeling?"

"…Better," He murmurs, petting Koromaru as he barks and wags his tail, forcing out a smile from Makoto. He spends some more time scratching behind his ear and rubbing his chest before asking, "What are you doing?"

"Telling Aki you're up," He says. "School's over like an hour ago. And before you ask, no, ain't my idea to bring Koro here. It's Mitsuru."

He tilts his head. "Really?"

"Yeah, surprised me, too," The man hums before patting the dog's back lightly. "So, you wanna go back to the dorm yet?"

He frowns a little. "Not sure."

Aragaki sighs exasperatedly. "Really?"

"…I don't want to think," He murmurs, putting a hand over his face. "Thinking hurts."

Aragaki sighs before standing up. He offers Makoto a hand, and he takes it. "Then we're heading back to the Dorm. I'm gonna cook you up something light."

"You don't—"

"Nuh-uh! I ain't listening!"

Makoto just drops it. He knows better than to even _think_ of antagonizing the older boy. He can't win in an argument. He can't win with force, either.

The man pulls him up, and he finds out that he just _can't_ walk for shit by falling into Aragaki's chest. The older male just looks down at him with a quirked brow before he sighs, putting an arm around his shoulders in a familiar manner. "Shoulda guess you would be weak after that kinda breakdown."

He whimpers. "Sorry."

"Ain't your fault, and this ain't a bother, either," He says with finality. Koromaru barks once before walking by his side, his snout nuzzling his leg a little. Makoto cracks a small smile while Aragaki scratches his cheek, looking away. "Anyways, let's go. The sun is gonna set soon."

"Okay."

Their walk back to the dorm is uneventful, save for some curious and disdain eyes from the students. He tries to ignore it, but the voices inside him won't let him do that. It keeps whispering the words _monster_ right into his mind, and he just wants to drown it out. He fumbles for his MP3 and pushes at the volume button until the bar's maxed out before he pushes the earphones against his ears, hard enough to leave prints on his skin.

Aragaki's hands pries his off, but instead of ripping the earphone away (like all the kids and the adults would've done), he just forces his hands a bit away. He gives Makoto a reassuring pat to the head before saying just loud enough for him to hear through the music. "You can listen to whatever, just don't press your ears that hard."

"Okay," He murmurs, absently hitting skip after skip after skip until he lands on _Burn My Dread_ again. He presses repeat in order to keep this one song in play before letting the MP3 falls out of his hand. When he lets his arm falls to his side, he feels Koromaru jumping up to meet his fingers.

He half-heartedly pats the dog's head whenever it reaches his fingers, while keeping his pace as steady and as quick as he could. He wants to get away from people as soon as possible. Hearing them just repeating the same things he's heard for years again and again _hurts_. He doesn't want to perceive any of it. He doesn't want to think about it.

He just wants to stop feeling pain.

When they arrive at the dorm, the first thing the older boy does is to push him into the kitchen. He sees Amada looking at them funny, Yukari's a bit concerned, Kirijou in a foul mood and the rest of the SEES looking uneasy, at best. He looks down at the MP3 and focuses on it as he's pushed down onto a chair while Aragaki just grabs an apron, ignoring a few murmurs from some of the SEES who seem surprise, and starts piling ingredients onto the kitchen counter.

He feels the chair beside him moves, but he doesn't care enough to look. Not until a hand grabs his left and pulls at it.

Yukari is tugging on his left hand, determined, her eyes glaring into his and forcing him to look away. He just lets her take it to her lap, and flinches when she starts unstrapping his wristwatch and undoing the bandages. He wants to pull away, and when he tries to, she hisses at him and slaps his arm hard enough to leave a red mark, but not so much as to make it _that_ painful.

He sees no point resisting, so he just stops and sighs, leaving his hand limply in her care as she starts mapping it out all over again like all those nights ago (before she slapped him) (he _deserves_ that).

Much to his chagrin, he realizes that he _misses_ it, the feeling of gentle fingers on his skin. He bites back his apology, the guilt, the _fear_. He bites back all the things he wants to say, because he _has to_. For her sake, he _must_.

After a moment, she murmurs. "You're trying to protect me from yourself."

His breath hitches.

She takes his silence not so kindly, fingers pressing deep into his skin, forcing him to wince a little. He tries to pull away again, but she doesn't let him. She keeps his hand in hers for a while before she says with a small sigh. "Really, you are _such_ an _idiot_ when it comes to yourself, Makoto."

He looks away. Aragaki is intentionally ignoring him by intensely looking at the cookbook riddled with post-its and small notes.

"I'm not fragile," She states, forcing his fingers open with hers before she presses her palm against his, intertwining their fingers like she always does. He tries to pull away again, but she stops him. "You don't have the right to push me away like this, you know. You're stuck with me, so deal with it."

He bites his lip. "If you know why I'm doing it, then let me go and leave."

"No," She replies immediately. "I'm _not_ fragile. I can take care of myself. I'm not afraid of you or what the hell the rumors are saying. They're not the truth."

"But I'm afraid of losing someone dear to me," He chokes out, his voice suddenly raw. He's afraid of the shadow of Death he would often see, like a spectre trailing after him, clinging to him like a parasite and reaping all that dare come too close. "Please, just let me go and _get away_."

"No," She repeats herself. He refuses to look her way and shies away from her hand as they reach for his chin. She doesn't push the issue, but the grip on his hand is tighter. _Much_ tighter. "Makoto, look at me and see for yourself that I will _not_ let you go, no matter what."

He presses his lips into a thin line and closes his eyes tightly, shaking his head a little. "Please. I don't want you to come closer."

"You do," She says. "You _want_ me to. You're just afraid of losing me. And I'm telling you—"

She presses her hand on his cheek and turns his head towards her.

She's _smiling_ as she murmurs those words with such affection that it takes his breath away.

"—That I won't leave you. Ever."

* * *

In the end, Aragaki just kind of shoos him and Yukari upstairs, his cheeks a bit pink.

He wonders why.

As if by reflex, Yukari pulls him towards his bed and sits him down. Like they used to, she pulls his hand to her side and starts tracing soft little lines on it, sending shivers up his arm and setting his nerves on fire, lighting and bursting a keg of gunpowder inside his soul. He bites his lip again and tugs weakly, in a dim hope that maybe she would let go (a part of him wishes she _wouldn't_ ).

Her grip tightens, but she says nothing, leaving him to sit in silence while giving up the ownership of his left hand to her. He frowns, staying still, his mind chewing and digesting all the words he's heard so far, one at a time, methodically. It's what he knows to do best, to keep his mind busy and off the pain.

_You're important to us._

_You're an irreplaceable life._

_You deserve love._

He shakes his head, shoving those words away, words that he wants to believe but knows he can't (he shouldn't). He opens his mouth to say something, anything, maybe to hurt her and turn her against him and push her away. In the end, he couldn't bring himself to. He knows he will fail.

"Makoto," She whispers softly. He doesn't look up and just keeps his eyes on that one black spot on the floor. She sighs. "Come on, talk to me. You know you can't turn away from me forever."

"I know," He murmurs, inhaling sharply. "…Everyone around me dies. I don't want you to end up like that, dead and forgotten."

"I told you I won't," She states, hands tight around his. He looks up at her, and she's giving him a kind smile that makes his heart jumps with joy — joy that he promptly kills off. "I _promise_ you I won't leave."

"Your promise means _nothing_ ," He growls out like a wounded animal. He's afraid. Of both letting her closer and keeping her away. He doesn't know what he should do, and it _terrifies_ him. "Death doesn't care about promises. It'll come for you no matter who you are."

"Makoto," She says his name softly, musically, and her voice makes his breath hitches and his throat parched. She lets go of his hand and cups both of his cheeks, keeping her eyes on his, refusing his retreat no matter what. "Death doesn't follow you. And even if it does, I'll fight it."

"I don't want you to—" His voice is lost, replaced by whimpers as the memories return to him, bits by bits. She'll die if she stays. He needs to let her go. He _has_ to. He _must_. " _Please_ , don't do this to me."

_Don't give me hope._

"Makoto, you deserve _love_ , just like everyone else," She whispers, her lips mere centimeters from his own. He couldn't tear his eyes away from hers, so alive and so determined. "Death doesn't cling to you, and even if it does, it won't take me. I'll make sure it won't."

_Empty promises. Lies._

He swallows the words back, his last line of defense (against her tenacity) (against his own weakness) crumbling down. He can't stop it, but he has to. He tries to move away, but she's trapping him between her hands. With a broken whisper, he asks, as if to find confirmation. "…How am I going to believe that when no one else could keep it before?"

"I guess you'll have to take a leap of faith, then," She smiles, and presses her lips against his own.

It's soft and warm and sweet, tasting like lily and sunlight and spring. He closes his eyes and lets the feeling of her lips overwhelms his senses, creating sparks that run along his body and making him shivers. He reaches up to grab her waist, pulling her a bit closer, as she puts both her arms around his neck and presses herself fully against him.

He doesn't want this to end as he pushes back, light and careful. She recuperates without giving him an inch, forcing him into submission yet again with her stubbornness. Before he could really protest it, she's already pushing him down onto his own bed, and when she pulls back and away, she's trapping him with his hips between her knees and his head caged by her arms.

They are panting, catching their breaths. She's a little red, and he doubts he's fairing much better. After a moment that takes up maybe years in his eyes, she smiles and presses her forehead against his, her breath ghosting across his lips, teasing. "Are you going to leap? Or are you going to back away?"

"Leap," He replies quickly, before he could even contemplate on her words. When he does, he still stands on his answer. He no longer has the will to fight against her. And he doesn't want to. "You really are relentless, Yukari."

"I know," She whispers. "And be glad that I am, cuz I don't think anyone else is going to go this far for you."

"Except maybe Aragaki-senpai," He mumbles with a soft chuckle. "He's really weird and protective."

"I saw it, so I believe it," She hums. "You deserve all the love, Makoto, including mine. I love you."

His heart leaps and bounds with joy, and for the first time, he decides not to try to reign it in.

He murmurs back. "And I you."

* * *

They spend the next few minutes half-cuddling each other and exchanging a few playful kisses and bites.

It's decided that Yukari is the one who has control in this relationship, and he really doesn't mind it. She's caring in her own ways (it's endearing _and_ terrifying at the same time. Kinda weird, if you ask him), and he doesn't care much about her tendency to force the issues with him. As long as she's here, he's fine with it.

The only reason they stopped was because Aragaki came knocking to ask if he's okay (and the man _saw_ the single, obvious hickey on his neck. Must have, since he turned beet red and slammed the door back into his face right away) and dropping two boxes of dinner for them. Yukari is a bit flustered at that, and he couldn't really blame her. She's not spent as much time with Aragaki like he does.

And now they're sitting on his bed, legs touched, his hand in hers again. The scars on his wrist doesn't hurt anymore (he wonders why), and all he's feeling now is this warmth and fuzziness that calm him down. He smiles slightly, to himself, to her, as she giggles and keeps moving her fingers all over his hand, all too familiar yet still a stranger.

After a moment, she leans her head on his shoulder, and he doesn't shy away. He only curls his fingers around her hand before pulling it to his mouth and kissing her knuckle lightly. She hums, content, as he sets it back down, fingers still loosely interlaced.

"…Fuuka's going to have a field day with this," She mumbles, slightly embarrassed. He only tilts his head slightly, prompting her to continue. "She's been teasing me about… well, me being _smitten_ over you—"

"—Which is the truth—"

Her blush deepens "—Yeah, which is the truth, and now that we've gone and kissed and stuff, I don't think I can keep it from her anymore… especially not when you left a hickey right where my choker usually is."

"That one's small, and you left one on my neck, too," He murmurs, absently rubbing where she bit him extra hard just for, by her words, _shits and giggles_. "So you're not in the position to talk."

"You can hide it under your collar."

"So can you, if you just button your shirt up a little," He says with a small smile. "Not that I want you to, but better than getting grilled about it, right?"

She sighs. "How unbelievably mischievous of you, Makoto."

He only hums before lying down, pulling her with him. She yelps a little, but offers no resistance as he holds her against his chest, fingers mindlessly drawing circles on the small of her exposed back. She just mumbles something under her breath before hugging his torso, her head on his shoulder.

"I promise I won't go anywhere," She whispers, holding him impossibly tighter. He detects slight tremor in her voice, maybe, but he doesn't ask about it. She inhales once. "So you better do the same, because I'll kick your ass if you don't."

He chuckles a little. "Promise."

"Good," She murmurs as she leans up to capture his lips again, slightly forceful, a bit tender. He doesn't mind it.

_I swear I'll stay by you, always._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it did end on a high note. But I must remind you that the next chapter is October Full Moon, so... YEAAAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhh don't expect no angst outta me thx XD
> 
> I think I'll take the two times a week update now, since I've got WAY too many buffer chapters, and I've got ideas for the sequels already... 
> 
> ...Sorry?
> 
> See you next time!


	11. X: The Merciless Wheel of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a brief period of respite, the Full Moon approaches.
> 
> And, as it always has been, Fate can be as merciless as the flow of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... It's not exactly JUST October. This is a fusion of late September to the October full moon so... yeah?
> 
> The tone in the beginning and the end's SO different lol. Anyways, just... have fun???

**_X: The Merciless Wheel of Fate_ **

_Wheel of Fortune: Change, Cycle, Inevitability, Fate_

_Reversed Wheel of Fortune: Lack of Control, Unwelcome Change, Bad Luck_

* * *

Everything feels right again.

She's just glad it works out the way it did, considering that her stubbornness can leads the outcome either way. Makoto looks softer, lighter, and gentler, and she really likes it.

Not to mention that his lips are really soft, and he's an _excellent kisser_.

She shakes her head to get rid of the thoughts, focusing her attention on the lecture. She glances back to see him smiling at her. She blushes, hand unconsciously rubbing at the hickey right under her choker (at least it's hidden), before looking back. It's new to her that Makoto's actually quite the tease, not with words, but with the way he _winks_ and chuckles at her.

He's going to be the death of her. And to be fair, she really wouldn't have minded it.

(But he would, so she had better not).

When lunch rolls around, she's only half surprised to see Makoto whipping out a bento from thin air and puts it on his desk. It's large enough for maybe three or four people, and by now she's learnt that he could eat food that would be enough for the entirety of the SEES in one sitting and still ask for seconds.

Instead she just turns her chair to face his desk and props her elbows on it. "Who made this?"

"Who else?" He says with a huff, a small smile on his lips. He hands her a set of chopsticks, and she readily accepts it. "I've been watching him cook for a while now, and how good he is still surprises me."

"How good _you_ are surprises me, too," She says and bats his chopsticks away to snatch a piece of meat from him. She ignores his grumbling. "Why did you want to learn how to cook, anyway?"

"Distractions."

"Ah."

They ignore the chatters surrounding them as they continue to eat, talking quietly (well, it's mostly _she_ who does the talking) and enjoying the food. She gives Junpei a look that stops him from teasing her as she takes another bite out of the food he plans on eating. He just shakes his head and pokes her cheek lightly, making her blush.

When the classroom is empty, the first thing he does is to reach for her choker and push it up slightly, revealing the blooming hickey on her neck. She quickly pushes his hand away with a scowl.

Before she gets to say anything, he murmurs. "Does that hurt?"

She blinks. "No, just really embarrassing. Why?"

"Nothing."

"Makoto," She begins. She knows what he's thinking about, and she couldn't help but get a little uneasy at how he blames everything on himself and having this idea that everything he did to her would hurt her. It's admittedly less often now, but still. "You could never hurt a fly. You could never hurt _me_ , so stop being paranoid."

He looks away, scratching the back of his head a little as he mumbles. "Am I that transparent?"

"Only sometimes."

He lets out a huff of laughter and smiles thinly. "If you say so. Well, you had better push your choker down, or that would show."

She scowls, this time. "At least you placed it really well, because if you had kissed a little higher or lower, we're going to have a problem."

"Duly noted."

She reaches her hand forward and beckons for his. He complies, placing his left hand in hers, and like she always does, she unfastens the straps of his watch and goes about running her fingers through the increasingly scarred hand, the more callous fingers and the soft, warm palm.

"Really, I wouldn't be surprised if you say you own that one," Makoto says, pointedly looking at the hand in question while resting his cheek on the other, his eyes so soft and so fond.

"Then don't mind if I do," She hums. "Gimme your right, next time. I think I've never mapped that one out before."

"You haven't," He confirms.

She presses her fingers against his then pushes them open before interlacing their fingers loosely. She doesn't miss the way his eyes are watching her fondly, or the way he relaxes his hunched shoulders (they're always so stiff) as soon as his hand is safely in hers.

Before she could tease him or say anything, he pulls her hand to his face and plants a soft kiss to the back of it. She's inwardly screaming, but outwardly she just _blushes_ like a goddamn lovesick school girl—

—Wait, she _is_ a lovesick schoolgirl! Goddamnit.

At that, his smile turns a bit sly (and that changes him from being cute to being _hot_ , what the hell?) before he murmurs. "You're cute when you blush."

"Shut _up_ ," She groans. "Don't tease me!"

He just chuckles.

She thinks she could die happy like this.

(Then again, that would break her promise, and she sure as hell won't).

* * *

The typhoon sucks.

But there are some silver linings, like being able to eat Makoto's (and by extension, Aragaki's) cooking.

How he even manages to do all of that after getting caught by the typhoon and drenched to the bones is a mystery. She thinks he's going to catch a cold soon after, but he says he won't and shut her up with a plate of homemade cookies.

Oh well.

What feels a little off, however, is the air around the two as they talk among themselves. Makoto looks a bit stressed, and Aragaki has to keep reassuring him with a head pat, or a shoulder squeeze. And then he would glance at Amada, who seems strangely quiet and saddened. She asks the young boy why, but he says that his mother's anniversary is soon, and he's reminded of it, so she leave it at that.

She also doesn't question how Makoto convinced Aragaki to prep the residents a big fat meal, because this is pretty nice. She thinks Sanada and Kirijou are a bit surprised, too, but not as much as Junpei or Fuuka. Granted, they are friends with Aragaki for the longest of time, so their minimal reactions are kind of a given. But Sanada seems particularly… _happy_ about this?

"I never thought you'd be doing this for us at all, Shinji. What gives?" He asks, leaning back against the chair and drumming his fingers on the table as Aragaki flips whatever it is in the pan upside down expertly. Makoto leans a bit closer to take a look before shrugging and going back to his own stove.

"It's because you dipshits eat like trash," Aragaki growls before putting a cup of hot rice and a small plate of grilled salmon in front of Amada, who gives him a look torn between being grateful and… something she couldn't quite name.

"Admit it that you've wanted to for a while now, Senpai," Makoto says. His voice is flat, but he's _grinning_ at the older boy.

Aragaki groans. "Fuck off, Yuuki."

"No, thank you," He hums and goes back to the counter.

"I've been meaning to ask, but you guys seem really close," Sanada begins after thanking Aragaki for the warm cup of tea. "Never thought the two of you would kick off your friendship this fast and this strong. How come?"

"We're birds of the feathers," Aragaki mumbles. "Not a good thing, but not bad, either."

"I wouldn't call the two of us being _birds of the feathers_ not a bad thing," Makoto sniffs. "We can bring a few freight trains to a halt with how much we're carrying."

"Yuuki, as I said, it's not _that_ bad—"

"—It kinda _is_."

Sanada laughs while Kirijou just snickers into her hand a little. Aragaki glares at them both while Makoto hands Yukari her plate with a wink before he starts distributing everyone their utensils.

"Man, this is the first time I've seen you _this_ lively," Sanada chuckles as Aragaki sits next to him, while Makoto settles down to her left, putting his right hand on hers and squeezing it lightly.

"Just shut up."

"He's kind," Makoto says with a small smile. "And very understanding. Like a mother hen."

Aragaki's face gets redder as he tries to stop Makoto from saying anything else. Sanada just pulls him back and laughs his ass off. "Yuuki, if you keep this up, Shinji's going to set himself on fire and die of embarrassment."

"It's quite a sight, to be honest," Kirijou adds.

"Mitsuru, not you too—"

They laugh.

* * *

She ends up in his room (again), with his right hand becoming her next plaything.

He's sitting on the chair, a book propped on his knee as he uses his left to flip the page while she curls up on his bed, hogging his hand to herself and is very happy about it. He's changed his clothes again to his turtleneck, claiming that he's a bit cold (he's _so_ going to be sick tomorrow). The sounds of the raindrops slamming into the glasses are annoying, at best, but ignoring it is easy when she has someone with her. She thinks she caught Kirijou's eyes when Makoto led her to his room, and it's pretty hard to miss her smile.

It's against dorm regulations, but she thinks Kirijou is giving them an exception, and she's fine with it.

They stay silent, with the sounds of rain and thunder and the whispers of papers sliding on one another filling the room, and the only source of light being the lamp on his table. She carefully trace the scar on his right hand, numbering a bit less than his left, especially his index finger which is usually guarded by his Evoker. She frowns a little when she feels a faint, but _large_ , scar on his palm, as if he's been pierced with a sharp blade.

"When was this?" She asks, running light fingertip across it, making him shiver a little.

He tilts his head slightly, brows furrow in thoughts, but his eyes don't leave the pages of his book. He chews on his tongue a little before he blinks once. With a hum, he replies, softly. "Do you remember the love hotel?"

…Oh. "My arrow?"

"Yes," He says, looking up from the page and at her with a gentle smile he wears more and more often, that would make her heart beats just a little faster, that would make her a bit more nervous. "And don't blame yourself. I ordered you to."

"Okay," She breathes, keeping her thumb pressed on it. "Does this one hurt?"

"No," He shakes his head and places the book down before sliding the chair a bit closer to the bed. "None of them does."

"You're not lying, are you?" She frowns a little, eyes glancing to his left wrist, where scars after scars adorn it like lines of broken woods on the board.

"Not right now," He murmurs.

"I don't really like that answer," She whispers. She knows he still can't say some things, and that's okay, but it still makes her feel uneasy.

"Sorry," He apologizes quietly, his fingers curling around hers and stopping her from exploring.

"When will you be able to tell me everything?" She asks, putting her other hand over his, only to feel him trembling under her palm, slight as it may.

"I'm not sure," He murmurs. "Hopefully soon."

"You better try your hardest, okay?" She says, sitting up slightly and putting her hand on his cheek.

He leans against her touch, his eyes closed. While he's reluctant to make physical contacts, it's clear after a while that he actually _starves_ for it. He needs it, but also hesitant to receive it, because touches were not always kind and soft towards him in the past.

But now that she's here, he's relaxing fully against her hand, his skin so soft and warm, albeit decorated with scars old and new, deep and shallow. She has never tried to touch anywhere above his elbow, and never seen under his shirt before, but she thinks… there might be more than what she could prepare for mentally.

The fact that he refuses to wear a swimsuit is telltale enough.

She sighs inwardly and pulls her hand away from him. He opens his eyes, a bit confused, and she smiles at him as she leans in to kiss him lightly and gently.

After a while, she pulls back, her hand reluctant on his elbow. "…There are scars above here too, right? Scars not from Tartarus?"

He gives her a pained smile. "Yes."

"…Can I see them?"

He looks uncertain, his eyes casting downward. She pulls her hand back before gripping both of his firmly. He looks up and inhales. "They're not pretty."

"I know," She says. "It's fine if you don't want to. I just want to understand your pain better."

"For what?"

"So I can ease them, of course, you _idiot_ ," Really, he is _dumb_ when it comes to understanding kindness. But then again, he hasn't experienced them much before. And she's going to make sure that he does, as much as she could provide, from now on. "But, I'd understand if you don't want to."

"…I don't know," He says slowly. "Although… if it's you, then I guess it's okay."

He pulls his hand away, pulls his MP3 over his head and on the table, then tugs the shirt off his body in one smooth motion.

Because there is so little light in the room, it takes her some time to be able to see. But even then, some of the scars are really faint and easy to miss.

Before she could think on it, her hands are already on his chest, feeling the jagged and uneven edges of skin, one after another after another, each larger than the last, and it makes her breath hitches as she continues to follow their lines. She stops when he winces at a particularly large scar on his right chest.

"…You said they don't hurt anymore."

"Only the ones on the hands," He murmurs. He then grabs the eraser on his desk and throws it at the switch, turning on the light and—

All she could do is gasping and trying to stop herself from crying.

There are _so many scars_ on his body, large and small, most of them are rough lines, shallow enough for the blemishes to faint, but deep enough to leave marks. The one on his chest, however, is a large scar branching out like webs, skin around it warped as if it's been twisted, color a deep shade of red. She reaches to touch it again, and he flinches, his hands tight on the edge of his seat.

"What…" She couldn't bring herself to finish, so she bites on her lip and gently traces it. It doesn't look like it's made from being cut, either.

"…I'm not going to answer that."

" _Makoto_."

"Not now, not tonight," He says resolutely, looking away from her. "I'm not ready."

"Then when?"

"I don't know," He breathes, his nails digging deep into the wood. "Sorry."

She just furrows her brows more, but pulls back. It doesn't look like something she should pry just yet, and just him revealing these to her alone is like asking him to bare his sins for the world to see. It's enough, for now.

"I'm sorry, for forcing you," She murmurs. "You can put your shirt back on."

"Okay," He whispers, and does as told.

She just sits there, lost in her own thoughts. The more she gets to know him, the more painful it is to accept the fact that this kind, gentle soul has been through hell before, and is barely halfway back from it. What kind of monsters would put him through all of this? What malicious god is there that would put someone this compassionate through this kind of torment just because?

She jumps when she feels his hand on her face, his finger wiping something — wiping _tears_ away from her cheek. She blinks again. "Makoto—?"

"You were crying," He says with a smile, so soft, so tender. "You shouldn't."

"It's because you don't deserve any of this."

It looks like he is about to counter, but decides not to. Instead, he just pulls back and walks over to turn off the lights again.

"Makoto, I'm sorry," _I'm sorry for all of these things that happened to you._

"It's okay," He says, sitting back down on the chair, and pulling her hands into his. "I'll be alright. You're here with me, all of you. I'll be okay."

She smiles. "If you say so."

* * *

He has a fever.

He has a _fever_ the next morning.

"Makoto, you're such an _idiot_ ," She growls out as she closes the door behind her, first aid kit in hand. Aragaki told her he hasn't come down since early morning when they were going to cook together, and she promptly comes up to check only to see him red and panting on the bed. "You should've told Aragaki-senpai or me that you're sick."

It takes him a solid minute before he murmurs out, voice barely audible through the storm. "…Didn't want to worry you."

"Well, now you have me concerned!" She snaps lightly before shaking her head. Scolding can come later.

She walks over to the bed and drags the chair to his side, the first aid kit in her lap. She takes in the sight of him breathing heavily and wrecked with fever for a moment before going about preparing a towel and a bowl. She doesn't need to feel his skin to know that he's having a _raging_ fever. Judging from his face and the way he breathes alone is enough.

He whimpers the moment the soaked towel touches his skin, and he's shivering a bit harder. She sighs and curses his idiocy in her head—she thinks he's already realized that the first time. Instead, she pats his hair softly as she tries to wipe away the fever and whispers. "You'll be okay. I'll be here."

A pause. "…Sorry."

"You should be," She finds herself pouting a little, but decides to quickly drop it. "Not about me taking care of you. About being an idiot and pushing your own body too hard. Just… be more careful next time, please?"

He lets out a chuckles and breathes deeply. "…Mhm. Okay."

"Somehow, that doesn't sound really convincing to me," She mutters as she keeps wiping at his skin. The water droplets disappear almost instantly every time she does, and she winces slightly when her hand touches the crook of his neck. He's on _fire_ , and not in a good way. "Where's the thermometer?"

"…39.3 Celcius (103 F)," He murmurs, stopping her brain and crashing it for a few seconds.

" _What!?_ "

He groans, a hand on his face. "Not all the time. Last checked… an hour ago."

"Makoto, you _dolt!_ " She snaps as she reaches for the meds in the first aid. While Fuuka dislikes medicine due to her… complicated family problems, she still retains a bit of knowledge on the matter, and it looks like her guess about his symptoms and fever is on point. She sighs and shakes her head, stopping herself from laying into Makoto further than this. She'll have the time to do that later. "Can you sit?"

He nods, and she holds him by the arms as he sits up almost painfully, his eyes half-closed. He's swaying, and looking a little dazed. He groans again. " _Fuck,_ headache."

"It's your fault, y'know," She mumbles as she puts the glass of water to his lips. His hands are a little shaky as he takes it (they're so _hot_ ) and sips slowly and carefully. "Take better care of yourself."

"…Sorry."

"Here," She says, putting a few pills into his waiting, scorching palm. "For the fever."

"…Can you grab the ones in the drawer, too?" He says quietly. When she makes a confused noise, he elaborates. "…Antidepressants."

"O-oh! Um… okay," She mumbles, having forgotten the fact that, even if he's now more open, he _still_ has to take the drugs (curse that damn shrink, and he almost got over his problems the first time, too!). She sighs to herself and opens the drawer to see four containers. At this, she frowns. "Weren't there only three the last time you took them?"

"There _are_ ," He whispers. "The one in yellow is Xanax. Ignore it."

"…Oh," Is all she says as she pushes the yellow one away and grabs the other three, picking out from each one a pill. "Here."

"Thanks," He says, gulping everything down without following them up with water immediately. Instead, he just swallows them dry before taking another sip.

"You should rest," She says, pushing him back down by the shoulder. He doesn't resist as she tugs him under the blanket and takes his hand into hers. "I'll be right here, don't worry."

"Okay," He says, smiling slightly. "Thank you."

She sighs. "You really are an idiot, Makoto. But… don't mention it. I _want_ to be here with you."

Him being sick sucks, yeah.

But she doesn't mind staying by his side one bit.

She ignores the foreboding feelings as she settle down, with him already fast asleep, and her by his side, holding his hand.

They're going to be fine.

* * *

Makoto is extra jittery during the Full Moon.

She wonders if it's because Amada and Aragaki are not around?

"Where's Amada? And Shinji?" Sanada asks, brows furrowed. Kirijou looks just as concerned, as they wait for Fuuka to locate the Shadow(s). Then something clicks in Sanada's eyes, and he's frantic. "Don't tell me – today's October 4th, right!?"

Kirijou's eyes widen. "Yamagishi—"

"They're together."

Makoto's calm, almost flat, voice cuts them all off. Sanada and Kirijou are looking at him, the former first with confusion, and then _fury_. Yukari steps in between them to stop the boxer from reaching Makoto as he looks to the moon above, _too calm_ for her likings, and apparently, too calm for Sanada.

"Yuuki! What's the meaning—"

"Aragaki-senpai won't let himself get killed," He says, his gray eyes turning to Sanada, hard and commanding – something she could never get used to.

"…You _know?_ "

She isn't sure what they're referring to, but she'll save that for later.

"I deduced it, at first," He says, putting his sword into the ground and hands inside his pockets. "The timing and the way he looked at Amada are familiar to me. After a bit of thoughts, you just can't miss the signs – if you know what to look for."

Sanada backs down slightly, while Kirijou crosses her arms over her chest. "And why did you not stop them?"

"They need to talk this out," He answers, giving Yukari a brief glance. "It's not going to be easy, but I trust Aragaki-senpai enough not to fuck this up. I'm more worried about someone else joining in, however."

It takes her a moment, and then she mutters. "Strega?"

Makoto nods, looking up at the sky again. "But he hasn't been in contact with them for a while, so there is a good chance that they might not know where any of us are. Still… he didn't tell me where he went, so if you please, Yamagishi."

"Right!" She jumps a little, before closing her eyes. "…They're at the back alley of Port Island station!"

"Someone should go there, just in case," Makoto says. "Sanada-senpai?"

"Sure," He nods.

But before they could leave, something _crashes_ into the ground and stops them. Makoto is the first to act, firing his Evoker and calling Orpheus to his aid. But to their dismay, it's easily defeated and thrown back into oblivion. The statue of a human with steel wire-like fencings and a mechanical dog descend from the sky, and land before them.

"They're… Strength! And Fortune!" Fuuka cries.

"Sanada-senpai, we'll take care of them," Makoto says. "Go."

"Got i— _whoa!_ "

Before he could run, the steel wires extend and expand from the statue. She jumps out of the way, and Makoto takes a step back to avoid being stabbed. The commotions take maybe a few seconds, but it's a few seconds that make them realize just what kind of danger they're in.

They're caged in with one shadow, while Makoto and Fuuka are left out with the other.

The mechanical dog jumps on top of a roof, and soon something – something that looks like a _roulette wheel_ appears. She doesn't have the time to give it much thoughts, however, as she's assaulted by waves of ruthless, cutting petals.

"You'll have to destroy that thing first!" Sanada says, pointing at the roulette as it spins, spins, _spins_. "And then I'll be counting on you, Yuuki!"

"Yes!" He nods, and looks up against the golden Shadow. The roulette slowly comes to a stop as he summons another Persona. " _Seiryuu!_ "

The dragon rises from the ground and forward, its horns crashing against the golden frame. However, the thing does not faze, as the roulette finally comes to a halt, the needle pointing at a symbol that looks like fire—

"Kirijou-senpai!" Makoto snaps.

As soon as he does, the golden wheel shoots out a large fireball, through the cage and at them. She ducks out of the way and turns to see Aigis dragging the heiress away from harm. Before she could say anything, however, the master of the cage is already flying right into her direction.

"Hermes!" Junpei shouts, summoning Hermes and using it to push the Strength Shadow away from her. She gives him a nod before getting to her feet.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Yukari-cchi."

She hears the wheel spins again, but she trusts Makoto enough to take care of it as she tries to fight against the Strength. It's _fast_ , and strong, with the steel wires whipping and piercing around like arrows raining from the sky. She sees Sanada trying to weaken it, only for the effect to be canceled when the Fortune rolls into another slot.

She knocks an arrow and fires it, reflecting one of the wires from getting to Koromaru. She hears someone gasps, and hears Fuuka before she could really think on it.

"Yukari-chan! Junpei-kun! Koro-chan! Watch out!"

Before she could react, lightning bolts crash right into her, and then she's out cold.

* * *

When she comes to, the Fortune is gone and the Strength is frozen from head to toe.

"Just die already!" Sanada snaps, calling out Polydeuces again. With a war cry, the Persona summons a bolt of thunder that splits the ice into pieces, and after but a moment, the Shadow dissipates and turns into nothingness.

The cage is gone, in pieces and flying into the greenish sky of the Dark Hour. She wobbly gets up and looks around for a bit, still slightly dazed. She then sees Sanada running off, with Kirijou hanging back a bit. The heiress then walks over to her and grabs her arm.

"Are you okay, Takeba?"

"Yeah, just a bit woozy," She murmurs, gripping her head. "What happened?"

"You three are struck by a _Maziodyne_ when the Fortune wheel stopped at it," She explains, helping her walk over to Fuuka. "It's luckily not fatal, since Yuuki managed to cast a _Marakukaja_ to prevent lethality, although the damage's done, and you're not going to be doing any fighting for a while yet."

"Oh," She murmurs, then looks up and turns around. "Thanks, Mako—"

…Huh? Where did he go?

"He went ahead to find Aragaki and Amada after he defeated the Fortune," Kirijou says as she hands her a bottle of pain medication. She takes it and pops one pill right into her mouth. She hears Koromaru whining softly. "Akihiko's heading there. Yamagishi, can you contact any of them?"

"They're out of range, I'm sorry," She says before undoing the summoning. "We should head there, too, just in case."

"Can you move, Aigis?"

"Yes," The android nods, albeit a bit shakily. Junpei helps keep her up with one arm while his other hand rubs at the back of his neck.

Something's in the pit of her stomach, crawling inside her and making her feel sick. She shakes her head and shoves the feeling away, but it persists. She sighs and just walks with Kirijou helping her up. "Thanks, Senpai. And sorry."

"You're welcome," The heiress says. "The alley should be only about ten minutes' walk away, give or take, with our current speed. Akihiko should be arriving in maybe two or three minutes."

"That's good, then," She sighs in relief. Really, if Makoto is there alone, she feels like something bad is going to happen, and she's not going to like it—

 _Bang_.

She looks up, the echoing sound of _gunfire_ searing into her mind. The foreboding feelings are back tenfold, and she feels her heart drops onto the floor. She exchanges a look with Kirijou, who quickly helps her half-limp half-run towards the source of the sound.

_Bang. Bang._

Another, and another. She could feel dread clawing at her innards, telling her that something's happening. Something bad. She has a feeling it might be Amada or Aragaki who's in danger, but a part of her _knows_ they're not. She bites back the gasps and limps faster.

_Bang._

She runs.

Ignoring the aches in her body is easy when fear is replacing pain. She could taste something foul in her mouth, she could also feel the chill running through her body. She couldn't stop her hands from getting cold and shaken. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.

 _Bang_.

The gunfire is closer, and she's starting to hear faint and unidentifiable shouting of people. Of many people. Frantic. Afraid. Terrified.

She stumbles, but stops herself from falling as she keeps running, and running, and _running_ , until her lungs are begging her to stop, until her legs are crying, until her body is on fire. But she can't stop. The feeling of dread is right _here_ , and as she gets closer, the voice gets louder, more frantic. They are yelling, ordering, and as she rounds the corner, she could feel her blood freezes in her veins.

_Blood._

There is so much blood.

She sees Amada on the side, his spear on the ground, his eyes wide and mouth agape. There are a few holes on the walls, and broken concretes on the floor. Smoke blankets the area, and she could see small dents of maybe fragments of the explosions. An Evoker, broken, lies in the middle of the alley. And _arm_ , with a smoking revolver in its grip, is not too far. Sanada is hovering over someone, and—

No, no, no, _no—_

There's blood everywhere. On his face. On the ground under him. On his hands. Seeps into his shirt and cakes his body in its crimson splendor.

_Please, no—_

Aragaki looks up at her then back down, his hands pressed firmly against the other's chest as blood gushes out like torrents of rain.

" _MAKOTO!_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah... Because I did tag Canon Divergence up there ;) Hope you guys aren't upset with this!
> 
> Next chapter is a bit special, too, and the main reason why this story is 27 and not 22 chapters!
> 
> And update twice a week, because I've got one chapter left before I finished this story! I'm almost there, folks! So here you go!
> 
> ...I've got the mini oneshots and the sequels planned out, so... there's that, too. But that is for the future! See you Sunday!


	12. Intermission: The Hierophant's Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, at least he now has someone. But he's already made his promise to live for the boy's sake, so this changes nothing, really.
> 
> Besides, living with this bundle of fucking depression and sarcasm and kindness doesn't seem like such a bad thing.
> 
> He wants to live. For the boy's sake, and maybe… for his own, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I've got maybe a few pages worth left before I finish this fic, so who cares if I update often, right?
> 
> Anyways, this chapter is a bit special, so to speak. Have fun with this one!

**_Intermission: The Hierophant's Redemption_ **

The first time he heard about the boy, he could already emphasize.

Shinjirou doesn't usually get involve with the SEES business much. He doesn't want to be reminded of what he fucked up in life. He doesn't want to be reminded of his own weakness. But when Mitsuru called and asked if he could tell her anything that would help someone with PTSD, he just _had_ to know.

Yuuki Makoto's life is _fucked up_ beyond all recognition, if he's to be honest. Lost parents, getting booted from one place to the next, then next, then next. No friends. Relatives wanted him gone, too. He's worse than Shinjirou. At least he's got Aki and Mitsuru, as annoying as they may be. But the kid's got absolutely _no one_ , and he's surprised the boy is as sane as he is.

The first time he sees him, he looks so _fragile_.

Something happened, that's for sure. Takeba sits him down on the couch, and he looks so lost when she tries to pull away. She says something, and he calms down enough to let her go, curling into himself and closing his eyes, as if to shut the world away. The girl stomps her way to the kitchen with fury, and his eyes follow her as she opens the cupboard.

"Takeba, what happened?" Mitsuru asks. He just keeps a close eye on Yuuki as the boy shivers and _whimpers_ just minutely. Is he really the SEES' field leader? Sure doesn't look it.

Takeba slams the cupboard close, inhaling sharply, a scowl on her face. "The psychiatrist is a jerk, is what. He had a panic attack there after fifteen minutes of his session."

A fucking psychiatrist… caused this? This kind of breakdown? " _What_."

"He's still dissociating," Takeba says as she tries to change the cup to something a bit larger, and it falls right into the sink. She growls. "Damn it."

"I'll look for a better psychiatrist right away," Mitsuru murmurs, guilt depicting clear in her eyes as she taps away at her phone. It's not like they can know every shrink just from a glance. Hell, it took him _months_ to find the right guy.

"I know a few," He offers. "They are some of the best 'round here. Used to help me before."

"Thank you, Shinjirou."

"Don't mention it," He says, before calling. "Oi, Takeba, you two have dinner yet?"

"No, and he said he's not hungry."

"I ain't listenin'," Shijirou mutters, grabbing the apron and making his way towards the stove and turning it on. "I'm making you two dipshits dinner, end of story."

"Shinjirou—"

"A good, warm meal will help," He says. His case might not've been this bad, but he still knows what he had to do to calm a person down. "Trust me on this. Been there, done that."

"…If you say so."

"You two should go back to your rooms," He nods at Mitsuru and Yamagishi. It looks to him like Takeba is the only one who's keeping the boy calm, so she'll need to stay. "Too many people now is a bad idea."

After they're gone, he sets about preparing a warm meal for them both. Nothing too heavy, he doesn't think Yuuki would have the heart to eat it, but not too light, or he'll pass out from exhaustion alone. He understands what it's like, to have a mental breakdown. His case is not as bad, but from Yuuki's files alone, he could see just how shitty it is for the boy.

In the end, he makes some porridges, a few onigiri, and more cups of hot chocolate. He sets them down before the two (after he takes off the damn apron, of fucking course) and orders her with his eyes that she has to eat, and she has to at least force him to.

He lets them do their things, only watching from the side as Takeba keeps one of his hand in hers at all time. It's a bit difficult, but she manages, and he has to applaud her for that.

After a while, the boy finally falls asleep against her shoulder, his breathing so soft and calm, as if none of the breakdowns happened before. Once he's sure the boy won't overhear him, he says. "I gotta ask this to have an idea of what to do next. What happened exactly?"

Takeba frowns, her hand in his hair stops for a moment. She forces it to resume. "…The psychiatrist thought he should just order him around however and whatever. I think he reminded Yuuki-kun too much of the past and he just… went into a panic attack right then and there."

"At least he listened to you," Shijirou sighs. "Well, that's good, at least."

He gets up and puts his coat back on. He's starting to feel a little chilly. Ugh.

He glances at them one last time before he leaves, and once he's out of the door, he texts Mitsuru.

_When you got him an appointment, let me know._

She doesn't question it.

* * *

Yuuki's deduction skill is fucking _terrifying_.

But he guesses this much should be a given. Living in the streets allows you to pick up lots of useful shits. And living in the streets _and_ alternating that with surviving through abusive households are just… well, some skills just develop better in hostile environments than others.

But what surprises Shinjirou more is that, even though they barely know each other, this boy is willing to bare his wounds and his sins and his fear for all the world to see, just for a _chance_ to save him. He might be crass, but he's not heartless. When Yuuki asks him to _live_ , he just couldn't decline.

How someone so broken and wronged by the whole damn world could be so _kind_ , Shinjirou would never understand. What he does understand, however, is that he _has_ to protect this boy as much as he could.

He deserves a better fate than what he's had. And all Shinjirou could do is making sure that the path forward looks at least a bit brighter and kinder to him.

And as soon as he tells Yuuki of his own mistakes, of killing Amada's mother because he lost control, all Yuuki says in responds is that it's not his fault, and that he should forgive himself. He couldn't quite understand why, and he's about to argue, but that damn broken smile stops him from shouting.

"How is it not my fault? And why should I forgive myself for that shit?"

"Castor is a part of you, but it's not you." He says slowly as he looks up at the moon. "…Castor is a manifestation of your psyche, both the chivalrous and the dark parts, but it _isn't_ you. You tried your best to control it, but you can't. And you're atoning for your sins even though it isn't all your fault, so you're redeemable. You should forgive yourself for the things that are out of your control."

He sighs. "And so should you, Yuuki."

All the boy says is, "I wonder."

After that, Yuuki proposes that he should seek aid from the Kirijou Group. Because of Strega's drugs, his body is a bit messed up. He considers it—taking the drugs to the Group would mean that they'll be able to manufacture it, or better, _make change_ to it, so that the side effect would be minimal.

In the end, he decides to bite the bullet and sends an SMS to Mitsuru right away. Her reply is almost immediate, and he feels like he's going to have to answer a _lot_ of questions.

Welp.

They stay there in silence for a while before he decides that they both need a good warm meal. The boy's given him something to think, and… maybe, just maybe, there might be redemption for him yet.

As soon as he pulls Yuuki up, however, the car right beside them starts slamming on the horn like there is no tomorrow. One glance and he could tell what is about to happen.

"Yuuki—"

The boy's already running before he could utter another word.

He runs after the boy (why is he so damn _fast!?_ ) and follows him all the way from the bridge and to the dorm, where he unceremoniously scrambles his way up the steps in a hurry. Shinjirou thinks he's trying to go for Xanax — he's been there, and he's done that before, so he would know.

The members of SEES look after Yuuki and try to follow him, but Shinjirou is there in time to block their ways up the stairs.

"I'm serious, the more people there is, the more panicked he'll get. _I_ would know."

But then he looks at Takeba, and remembers that, for some reason, Yuuki _trusts_ her. So he grabs the Kouhai and pushes her up.

"Except you. You could calm him down. Go."

And that's the moment that he makes a vow.

That he'll live. And he'll help Yuuki with everything he's got.

* * *

Aside from being kind as all hell, Yuuki also has this tendency to _tease_ the fuck right out of him, should the opportunity arises.

It annoys and surprises him in equal measures.

He's also a bit sarcastic. He says only what he needs to, and he's so goddamn perceptive Shinjirou just decides that yes, spilling every last beans he has to the boy is the way to go. No way in hell he could ever hope to hide a damn thing from him, and after all of the times he confided in Shinjirou, he thinks that it's only fair he does the same.

The boy keeps saying that every deaths is his fault. He thinks otherwise. Desperately choking another kid to death sucks, yeah, but he was being _drowned_ , dammit. Trying to _survive_ shouldn't be used against him like that. And then seeing a foster mom that reminds him of his own deceased mother went up in flame and burnt _alive?_ How the hell could that have been his fault?

Shijirou tries, many times, to reassure the boy that it ain't his fault. But he never listens. That's when he realizes that _this_ is the Survivor's Guilt, in fucking combination with PTSD. He blames it all on himself because he _survives_. That's it. That's the fucking problem. He thinks that if he had died, then maybe, just maybe, none of it would've come to pass.

What the fucking hell.

And it all becomes much clearer just how far this baseless guilt, created from those damn people feeding him lies for a decade, goes, when he catches him looking at Takeba. With affection, with _sorrow_ , that makes even someone like Shinjirou flinches and stops breathing for nearly a minute.

This boy is willing to go as far as killing himself, both physically and mentally, just to keep the people he loves from even receiving a _scratch_.

Because he's never viewed his life as having worth (people, he's just a _kid_. Why were you doing this to someone like _him?_ ), he's putting _everyone else_ before himself. Shijirou thinks he'd go as far as to tank an explosion for someone without a second thought just to not feel like some wet trash at the sidewalk.

God, it hurts to know that a kid this _kind_ is so _broken_.

And he's proven right when Castor goes batshit right after they defeated the Hermit Shadow (no thanks to switching from Strega's suppressant to Kirijou's newer drugs).

Fucking thing tears its way, ripping and slamming its hoof through his soul and manifesting against his will, and in its rampage, he thinks it almost flattens someone. But then a giant comes from Yuuki's call, and stops it. He tries to say that he can't control it, but the absolute _trust_ Yuuki puts into him, that he can and will control it in the future, that he'll be there to help, that he _trusts_ him to fight, is some of the most confusing, baseless confidence he's ever seen.

And the trust; merciless and uncompromising. It's way too _convincing._

He has no choice but to fight.

But Castor is fast, and strong. He thinks Yuuki makes an off-handed comment that it's just like Shinjirou, but he couldn't really focus on it as he tries to will himself to move and keep that thing under control. Aki helps, and he's grateful.

It all goes to shit when Mitsuru freezes the air around it as it stampedes the ground so hard debris are flying _everywhere_. If they don't take it out soon, they're going to _die_ , and he knows this better than anyone. Castor's been with him from the beginning, with its wild, berserk nature. It will not stop until someone is dead, or it is defeated.

And then Yuuki shouts, "Get down, open your mouth, and cover your ears!"

It takes him a second too late to realize what he's planning to do—

He couldn't stop the boy in time as he sets off one hell of a thermal explosion, blasting Castor back into his chest and sending himself flying into the wall, cracking it, before falling down, caked in dusts and smokes and a bit of _blood_.

"What the fuck, Yuuki!?" He hisses, trying to stand straight, shaking his head to get rid of the ringing in his ears. Aki grabs his arm and keeps him up.

He thanks the man as he goes over to check the boy, so battered but so _alive_.

Seriously, this boy's got some _issues._

Risking his live and putting an unconditional trust to someone he barely knows, someone that's not kind nor understanding like Shinjirou, is just crazy.

And if Shinjirou's to be honest… this is the first time since he's killed Amada's mother that his resolve to live returns in _full_. He strengthens his vow further.

_I'll live to help this kid, no matter what._

* * *

The kid looks terrible.

And Shinjirou has absolutely no fucking clue _why_. Not until he sees the red slap mark on his cheek, and the way the kid looks at Takeba, and the way Takeba looks, angry and face stained with tears. They haven't had just a fight. It's far beyond that.

Yuuki must've tried to keep her away from him, and the guilt of making her cry and whatever else is eating him away.

"Yuuki, the fuck did you do?"

The kid doesn't say it outright. He just explains in a cryptic manner. But by now, Shinjirou knows him enough to be able to see the larger picture.

The kid must've forcefully pushed Takeba away, to protect her — from _himself_.

This is just messed up.

While he understands the kid's decision, he opposes it. Those deaths weren't his fault. And he, like him and everyone else, _deserves_ to be loved. But all of that is falling on deaf ears, so all he could provide now is a shoulder for him to lean on. At least, that's something he readily accepts.

It doesn't help as this pains the boy so much that he's starting to _cut himself up_ just to keep his head straight.

And when he thinks it couldn't get worse, it _does_.

He's noticed that, for the past week, he looks like he's just been reliving all his nightmares all over again right after he came back from therapy. While he's able to take care of the physical wounds, the mental one is beyond him. It doesn't appear to him that something's going wrong with the sessions themselves.

Until there is.

He just tags along during one of the sessions. While out grabbing coffee, he overhears them nurses chatting and calling this absolute _baby_ a fucking monster. Upon listening further, it seems like Tendou — his old shrink, who's helped him more times than he can count — knows Yuuki from before, when he was bounced around from place to place.

And that the guy thinks Yuuki _killed_ all those people.

All he could see is _red_.

He slams the fucking door to the therapy room open, and sees Tendou there, looking _happy_ , while Yuuki just curls up and is _crying_ in the fucking corner like a baby bird lost in the rain. He absolutely loses his shit right there, and curses up a storm while calling Mitsuru. The guy defends, saying that he's doing _his_ _victims_ justice.

The only thing stopping him from killing this excuse of a human being on the spot is Yuuki clinging to him like a lifeline.

He looks down, to see Yuuki clinging to his arm, nails digging into his skin through the fabric. His breathing is a bit frantic, and he's looking down, his shoulders shaking. The anger is all but forgotten, and in a familiar manner, he draws the boy close to him with an arm around his shoulders. He then points at Tendou, who's now right at the fucking _top_ of his shitlist, and snarls.

"I'm going to kill your career good, mark my words."

At least he calms down quickly during their trek back to the dorm. Yuuki still ignores and avoids Takeba like the fucking plague, but he's not going to make a comment. The boy needs some warm meal (he's going to feed him up until he's fucking _fat_ and he doesn't give a squat about what anyone says) and a good night's sleep. He could only sigh.

The boy's got the _shittiest_ luck he's seen so far, seriously.

And to make matters _worse_ , the damn shrink decides to relay all of the rumors to his son, effectively turning the entire fucking school against Yuuki.

Him crying like a caged animal is something Shinjirou never wanted to witness.

If Aki wasn't there, he thinks he might've landed himself in jail planting the damn brat's head into the fucking concrete and stomping the life outta him. Channeling Castor then didn't seem to be such a terrible idea. At least Mitsuru'll be taking care of the guy. Her execution's… not gonna be _nice_ , to put it kindly.

After that, Yuuki sleeps like a baby (seriously, what the fuck, people? He's a _baby!_ Look at how adora-fucking-ble this little shit is _sleeping!_ ) and only wakes up hours later. Shinjirou couldn't really feel his shoulder anymore, but he doesn't care. At least he's got Koromaru to keep him company.

When the boy's up, he's still trying to drown them fuckers out. He doesn't blame him, really, seeing just how much it _hurts_ him to hear the words being spoken to him for the past decade being reiterate right into his fucking brain over and over like a broken record. At least Shinjirou succeeds in stopping the boy from pressing his ears too hard.

He's not surprised to see Takeba taking the initiative and, this time, refusing Yuuki's attempts to push her help away. The boy deserves love. _Needs_ it, and he really can't think of anyone better. So when he's sure no one's looking, he just shoos them up to Yuuki's room, faintly aware that yes, Takeba's little shows of affection are turning him red.

Well, at least he now has someone. But he's already made his promise to live for the boy's sake, so this changes nothing, really.

Besides, living with this bundle of fucking depression and sarcasm and kindness doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

He wants to live. For the boy's sake, and maybe… for his own, too.

* * *

As expected, Amada calls him to the back alley of Port Island station on October 4th.

But since he decides to live, he doesn't think telling Yuuki would be the right thing. At least, not until he could resolve the tension between him and this kid.

He just listens as Amada tells him his own side, how he had to witness his mother's death by the hoof of Castor, and by his own weakness. He does remember all of it, of course, but he doesn't think saying it out loud will do him any good. Instead, he listens, and listens… until the tip of the spear is pressed against his chest, right above his beating heart.

His hands are shaking still, his weakness and his fear leaking out and covering his soul, clinging to it like black tar that refuses to be washed away.

He _wanted_ to forget it, everything that he did that day, the voice of the kid's mother being squashed to death by his own other self. He tried, with drugs, with outcasting himself from society altogether. But what good did that do? In the end, all he could do is live with his own failures and mistakes.

However…

"Before, I would've been fine with you killing me," He says quietly, gripping the tip of the spear and pushing it away. Amada doesn't fight it, and lets the blade glides to the side. Shinjirou gives him a tired smile and looks up at the full moon. "But there's another broken soul I gotta save, and the only way to do that is for me to live and atone for what I've done."

"Atone?" Amada spits, as if the word is foul to his tongue. "You've had _years_ to atone for it! Why _now?_ "

"Because, for the first time in forever, Yuuki forced me to face myself and my own mistakes and to live to correct it. All I've ever done was running away. No more."

He looks down at the concrete beneath his feet. Amada's right. He's got two or three years, at _least_ , to actually make things right. But instead of facing it like a man, he decides to run away, he decides to force himself to forget. And in the end, he also forgot that this boy – this boy whose mother he's killed – also needs saving.

He ain't gonna run away anymore, no matter what. "I'm going to save you too… whether you want me to or not."

Amada seems to falter a little. "Save me? What are you—"

But before any of them could say anything, there's an _applaud_ coming from the side. He quickly (against the boy's wish, he thinks) pulls Amada behind him, only to see fucking _Takaya_ walking out from the shadow casted by the moon, a revolver in hand.

"I never thought someone like you would actually have the will to live, Aragaki-san. How utterly pointless and detestable."

"It ain't your concern," He growls, his Evoker way too deep in his coat to be pulled out quickly enough. Against a real-ass gun, he either needs to be faster, or he's toasted. He feels Amada shifts behind him, and he just takes a step back to make sure that if the shot's ever fired, it won't hit the kid.

"Oh, but it is," He hums, pointing the gun at them. "There's an information that one of you is, say, a navigator, correct? I wonder who could it have been? Is it that kid behind you?"

"Tch!" He clicks his tongue and reaches for his Evoker—

There's a loud noise of the gunpowder kicking the bullet out of the barrel, and he instinctively kneels down and holds Amada in his arms, shielding him. And he hears a voice, at the same time.

" _Arahabaki!_ "

An Evoker that's not his own is fired, and he looks up to see Yuuki running down the alleyway from the opposite site, a sword in his left hand. He glances at them, relief flooding his slightly dirtied and tired face. Shijirou then turns to see the claydoll-like Persona standing between them and Takaya, a barrier of light enveloping both him and Amada inside.

"Yuuki—"

 _Bang_.

Another shot's fired, and he could see Yuuki flinches as the Evoker flies out of his hand and skids across the barren concrete. Blood drips from his fingers, a sizable hole in his palm. The boy's mind seems to work quickly, and before Shinjirou could process all of it, he's already charging at Takaya.

"Kid, wait!" He calls, pulling out his Evoker and fires it. He needs to stop Takaya, because the distance between the two of them is too big, and Yuuki won't reach him in time. " _Castor!_ "

He brings the thunderous hoof down, only for it to be blocked by _Moros_. He whips around to see Jin standing right in the shadow beside Takaya.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

"Get outta my way!"

_Bang. Bang._

Two more shots. His heart sinks as he tries and tries and _tries_ again, and each time Castor is repelled, his fear rises. He watches, in horror, as Yuuki sinks to his knees—

The pristine white shirt is dyed red by his own blood.

The boy gasps, trail of crimson dripping down from his mouth, the bullets having already ripped their ways through his abdomen and out the back. Shinjirou could see the red liquid (there's too much) pooling underneath his knees, and he could hear Amada gasping behind him.

Yuuki then tries to stand up, using his sword as support.

_Please stop, don't do this, don't kill yourself for someone like me, kid._

His pleas fall on deaf ears yet again when the boy rises. Takaya smirks and points the gun at Yuuki's knee before pulling the damn trigger ( _Please, stop already. Take me instead_ ), and with a _bang_ , kneecapping Yuuki and forcing him back down.

"How tenacious of you. Well, Death cares little for it. It's time to meet your maker."

He isn't sure if he should be proud, or horrified, or something by what the boy does next.

Instead of letting Takaya shoot him freely, he bolts forward, the way blood is spat out of his wounds makes Shinjirou wishes it would be _him_ instead and not this gentle soul. The Strega leader, in his surprise, fires the last round of his revolver. He couldn't see where that hit, but it definitely _does_ , seeing that the boy jerks back slightly.

But with one resolute, well thought-out movement, he _cuts_ Takaya's arm clean off.

Moros pushes his Castor back, and they both return to their wielders. He sees Jin rushing to Takaya and putting a piece of cloth on the stump of his arm before the two of them disappear into the shadow, like cockroaches that they are.

Arahabaki and its barrier then dissipate into nothing, and Shinjirou finds himself rooted to the spot as Yuuki stands up shakily, a new bloody spot on his _chest_.

His chest—

He looks at Shinjirou briefly with a soft smile, so warm, so gentle.

Before he collapses to the ground.

" _Yuuki!_ " He cries out and rushes over, ignoring everything else.

He rolls the boy onto his back, and feels the ice-cold grip of despair at his heart again. The wounds on his stomach is already bad enough, but the one on his chest is a different fucking story. He hears Aki calls and runs over to him, his face turns from confusion to fear, mimicking what he's feeling.

He then presses his hands on the boy's chest and orders Aki, frantic. "Stop his bleeding! Stop it somehow! You take care of the abdomen; I'll make sure this one doesn't bleed out more!"

He doesn't know what else he could do. But he _has_ to do something.

He can't allow this boy to die.

Especially not by _protecting_ a worthless piece of shit like him.

"Please, Yuuki… don't fucking do this to me, I beg you."

This boy showed him the way to his redemption.

He _can't_ let him die, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, Shinji's take on things.... hope you guys like it!
> 
> See you all soon! We're almost halfway there, folks!


	13. XI: The Strength To Face Yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I think… to live, is to connect to others," He voices his thoughts aloud as he opens his eyes. "With those connections, those bonds… you give yourself and your life meaning. And in turn, you give the person you're connected to a part of you, and you're given a part of them."
> 
> "…You know," Pharos begins with a cryptic smile, yet again. "I think… you might've already arrived at it… at the Answer."
> 
> "The Answer?" He questions, tilting his head slightly.
> 
> "Yes. To Life's greatest question. The Answer to Life."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINISHED! Well, almost, just some touches here and there. I'm just shy of 150k words too, lmao, why.
> 
> Anyways, don't let me keep you! The next intermission is like, 9 chapters away, so hold yer horses, everyone.
> 
> Also, good news! There are, what, four chapters that's in 10k territory, I think? Have fun with that when they come. Take a guess, if you guess right, you'll get a candy!

**_XI: The Strength To Face Yourself_ **

_Strength: Inner Focus, Bravery, Compassion, Focus_

_Reversed Strength: Self Doubt, Weakness, Insecurity_

* * *

It hurts.

He's drowning again, spluttering on his own blood as he sinks further and further into oblivion. The moon seems so much bigger like this, like it's there to mock him.

Joke's on it. He _succeeded._

He saved a life.

Voices from all around him, but none of them are too sharp. It's like hearing people talk while he's underwater (he would know, it's happened before), and there's pain all over, spots of soreness he could barely point at. Pressures are put on them. He thinks — he was… shot. The pressures (the hands) are probably there to stop the bleeding.

It takes him a moment to realize that the voices are pretty frantic. Yukari's unmistakeable, even through this haze. He tries to breathe, but the blood in his lung's making it impossible. Reflexes kick in, and he's coughing, his body trying to expel the liquid out of his chest. Gasping is painful. Breathing even more so. Each gulp of air is a struggle, and it gets harder every time he tries. So he stops trying and lets his body decides _when_ and _how_ to breathe.

A hand's grabbing his, gently. It's trembling, unsure. He couldn't move or feel his index and middle finger, so he curls the rest as much as his body would allow. A hole in his hand, his mind supplies. Right. He's been shot. Four—no, _five_ times, counting the one in his knee. He thinks his patella's shattered, too.

He cracks his eyes open. Aragaki looks like he wants to cry — he's never taken the man as the type who'd do that. But then again, he doesn't seem like the type to cook, either. Yukari's on his right, and he thinks he sees his hand in hers as she presses it against her chest. Her other hand is somewhere else he couldn't see. He thinks maybe on his wounds. The greenish glow is mostly hers to use, anyways.

He then hears clinking of chains and a puff of air.

 _Death_.

He ignores it and looks up at the moon again. He thinks he sees something at the edge of his vision, but… he isn't sure. He's so damn tired, and he wants nothing more than to close his eyes. Sleeping now would mean he'd die, but…

…Isn't that what he deserves, anyway?

"Makoto, stay awake," He hears her voice cutting through the thick, cold fog. His eyes slowly trail towards her. He couldn't make a sound, so he does what he could and squeezes her hand weakly.

"His abdomen's fine. At least the bullets didn't hit any major vessels, or they did but not enough to bleed him dry," Someone else says, but the hand (or hand _s_ ) on his stomach doesn't leave. "The only thing we should be focusing on now is that one."

"I'm on it," Yukari says. Her voice is broken. Soft. Trembling. She's afraid. "Damnit, I wish I didn't get knocked out cold, or I could've done this much _faster_ than…"

"You're doing your best," Aragaki murmurs. He then feels his other hand being held in a rougher, larger one, and the older boy inhales. "Yuuki, if you so much as not come outta this in one piece, I'mma fucking _kill_ you."

His mind couldn't process all of that, too slow and too hurt and too exhausted. So he just ignores it and focuses on the moon above as it creeps ever closer, the yellow light illuminating the green sky softly.

Breathing is starting to hurt more. He tries not to make a sound, as that would make him cough, and it would hurt. He's cold. So cold. Held in arms of death, so close to hell, yet too far away still. Coils of blood and broken bones and curses slither around his arms and legs like serpents, and it's so damn cold he wants to wriggle away.

"Come on, please be over already, Dark Hour…!" She says, the hand in his tightens its grip. It hurts a little, but he doesn't pull away.

Everything hurts. He just wants it all to stop.

"Are you giving up?"

He looks up to see those bright blue eyes that look like the shimmering ocean in summer, mysterious but soft. White and black strips. And that smile.

 _Pharos_.

He couldn't say a word, so he hopes that his mind is loud enough. The boy looks at him in the eyes, then somewhere else, then back at his eyes again.

"To throw yourself into Death's arms and embrace it like that… not many people would be willing to do it for someone they barely know, you know."

_He's important. Aragaki is important._

"Yes, but so are you."

_I'm not. I'm just a murderer._

"Why do you think so?" Pharos questions, tilting his head to the side. "Their deaths are not your fault. Well, except for one, but it's an accident."

_Because I'm here now, and they're not. But it won't matter. They'll judge me soon._

"So, you're giving up," Pharos concludes, a glint in his eyes, unreadable. The boy crouches down and touches his forehead with his cold finger. "You, who make people love you and care for you, are giving up on living because you're not seeing the truth."

_I…_

"You're giving up because it's easier that way, right? Because it hurts to remember, isn't it?"

_No, I… I just…_

"Then, let's revisit those warped memories of yours, one at a time. Tell me your answers again when we're done."

Before he could say anything, his consciousness is dragged away into the darkest, deepest corner of his soul.

* * *

…It doesn't hurt.

He looks down to see himself still in the Gekkoukan's uniform, three distinct holes on his torso; one in his chest, two in his stomach. His shirt is dyed red, the blood dried up and cracked. There's also a hole in his hand, but he can move his fingers just fine. His right knee and pant leg also have a hole.

"Am I dead?" He questions to the deafening silence around him. The only immediate reply is the sound of water dropping into the endless dish of darkness that expands from under his feet.

"You're on the edge."

He turns around to see Pharos there, hands clasped behind his back, that cryptic smile on his face. But it looks a bit sadder than usual.

"The edge?" He repeats, looking down at his torso again. "What does that mean?"

"It means you're right in between being alive and being dead," Pharos explains, walking a bit closer and taking his right hand into his own. His hands are so tiny, and they're cold. He unconsciously curls his own fingers around them. "Whether you live or die half depends on what they'd do out there to save you."

"…And the other half?"

"Depends on what _you_ want to do," He says as he pulls Makoto forward. He doesn't resist.

He… isn't sure…?

Oh.

"You're still undecided. Rather, you _think_ you do not deserve a life surrounded by people who you love and people who love you, but you _want_ to," Pharos says quietly, a sad smile gracing his lips again as he's pulled to a door, the number _1999_ scratched on the woods. "Let us recall everything one more time… and see if your answer changes."

"I don't want to," He croaks out, pulling his hand away and looking at the floor, seeing his own bloodied reflection in it. "I don't want to remember. It _hurts_."

"I know," Pharos says, touching his hand again. "But you have to. For their sakes, and for your own."

_For their sakes, huh…_

"Fine," He murmurs as he stands before the wooden door. He inhales, and pushes it open—

—To see the Moonlight Bridge, with cars and bodies and _flame_ covering its road.

"…What the—"

"Moonlight Bridge, ten years ago," Pharos says. "I have been with you for the longest of time. This is _my_ memories of you, from back then."

He thinks he should be questioning it, but he doesn't — he _couldn't_. He barely remembers anything from the crash, only that he watched and _watched_ while his mom burned without doing a damn thing to help, when he should, when he _could_.

He clenches his fists tight. He wants to look away, but Pharos is watching. He can't.

Then he sees—himself, a child back then, screaming and crying.

"I don't remember doing that…?" He questions to no one in particular, his head getting heavy. He only remembers a little, but he—he didn't scream like that, did he? "What…?"

"Dissociative Amnesia," Pharos responds as he looks at the scene from years long past. He sees himself on the verge of being _hysterical_ as he tries to pry the car door open. "You block out many memories from your mind, because it hurts. I understand. But now you have to see that none of it is your fault. You tried your best."

Then there's a small explosion, not enough to kill him, but it sent him flying. The child him gasps and coughs on the ground, a hole in his shirt, right where the scar on his chest is. His hand reaches up to touch the redden, deformed flesh as it stings. He winces, looking up as the past him is trying to desperately do _something_.

"You were just a child. There's nothing you could've done."

His head hurts, and he grips it, trying to ground himself somewhat. The memories are crashing. He isn't sure which one is real anymore.

"Their deaths are unfortunate, but neither is yours to shoulder. You tried your best."

"I don't know," He whimpers, falling down to his knees. None of this makes any senses to him, and trying to make head and tail out of it _hurts_. "I don't know anymore."

 _"Live, Makoto_."

It all snaps to clarity, and he looks up, to see his mother's smile as she whispers those words, so soft and gentle and warm.

"What did she say?"

"…Live," He repeats slowly. "She's… she didn't… she didn't blame me."

She never did. She told him to live, and never did say that he caused her death. She never said such a thing. How could he have forgotten something so simple? That his mother was too kind to say something crude and vile to him?

"Of course she didn't," Pharos laughs softly. "She loved you, you know. And it was an accident. Why would anyone blame their own child for an _accident_ that's not preventable?"

And as he watches flame engulfing the car, and the scenery shifting to a soup of gray smoke and black water, he thinks…

That maybe, just maybe… he might have the _right_ to live, after all.

* * *

It's weird seeing himself from the third person point of view.

It's weird _er_ when Pharos is here with him and, to his dismay, is narrating over _every_ goddamn thing the kid him is doing.

"Seriously, why are you so talkative?" He groans, arms on his knees as he watches the kid him _watching_ the other kids play. He knows his life sucks, thanks, could you please not replay it again? "I don't need you to reiterate everything kid me was – _is_ – doing, y'know."

"Oh, I know. But it's fun, so why not?" Pharos says with a soft laughter that rings like wind chime.

"Fuck off," He mutters, with no real bite behind it. He remembers this memory. It's when he choked a boy — _that one boy that's poking past him with a fucking stick_ — to death. He sighs and buries his face into his own hands.

"Why do you think he tried to drown you?" Pharos asks, a finger on his chin.

"Who knows," He mutters. "Curiosity?"

"I think," The boy says, a bit too jovial. " _Inferiority complex_."

"…Excuse you _what_."

"You're pretty socially awkward ( _says the boy who wakes him up during the Dark Hour to **chat**_ ), so I'll tell you. You might not've thought of them much, but you are _way_ too smart and too talented with many things. People of… less self-confidence would often lash out at people like you, you know."

He chews on his lip a little, deep in thoughts. He… is he really like _that_? He shakes his head; he doesn't know. He's not good at anything except surviving and living day-by-day. That's all there is to it, really; he's just _surviving_.

"You know," Pharos begins. "I don't think I've seen you smile to anyone else before you came to Port Island."

"Because I have no reason to," He says quietly, ignoring the memories that are resurfacing. He puts his hands over his ears to cut out the sound of the boys pushing and forcing his head underwater, to cut out the sound of him choking and kicking the air, to cut out the sound of their laughters as they cheer and cheer for him to _die_.

"Look up," Pharos orders, a hand under his chin, forcing his face up. He flinches when he sees the kid him's hands flailing about uselessly. "Understand that you wanted to live then. You didn't mean to kill him. It's survival instinct kicking in."

"That doesn't mean killing him is the right thing to do," He says, quietly. He sees his hands flailing, before the kid him grabs the boy's neck and _squeezes_ like there is no tomorrow. He looks away. "There should have been some other way to survive."

"You were suffocating to death," Pharos says. "And you were weaker than him physically. What else could you have done?"

He isn't given time to dwell on it as he hears cursing and yelling. The past him looks so out of it, eyes hazed and unfocused, the hands on the boy's neck cramped and shaken. The kid him's coughing out water and gasping for air. He presses his lips into a thin line as he's forced to watch, from the outside view.

"You didn't even know what you were doing until he's dead," Pharos murmurs. "And you were even trying to gasp for breath then. How could you blame yourself for something like this?"

He grips his own arms, curling into himself. He doesn't know. He doesn't want to _think_.

"Hey," Pharos calls, and forces him to look at those piercing blue as they bore straight into his soul. They are not condemning him, however. "It's not all your fault. You wanted to live, and he wanted to kill you. All you did was without thoughts."

"Not having a thought behind an action doesn't mean I won't be responsible for it," He hisses, looking up again to see the adults checking on the boy and beating him with sticks and feet and everything else they had. "I _killed_ him, and I'm still here."

"It's true," Pharos hums. "But don't you think living to atone for it is better to die for it? You told Aragaki Shinjirou this yourself, didn't you?"

His breath hitches.

"Don't be a hypocrite. Everything you say has reasons behind them. So listen to yourself sometimes. Live, for the sake of those you love, and for those you've wronged."

Living hurts.

He just wants to run away.

* * *

Hearing Akari's screams when she's burnt to ashes _hurts_.

"Akari-san…" He whimpers as he curls up into himself, Pharos closely beside him, his small hand on his shoulder as if to reassure him that he'll always be there.

He's forced to watch as fire engulfs her whole, again, and again, and _again_. What's new to him, however, is that kid him's… _held back_ by the adults that set the whole damn house on fire. _Just let me go, I have to save her, I've got to save her_.

"If you'd gone in there, you would've been dead," Pharos says, sitting down beside him as fire dances and rises to the sky above, dying it crimson. "There's nothing you could've done."

"I'm _older_ ," He whispers. "There should've been something. I should've been able to do _something_. She doesn't deserve this. I should've just left when I've had the chance."

He shouldn't have clung to the aspect of having someone who loved him and stayed. If he hadn't, they wouldn't have tried to sabotage her, she wouldn't have been in there, and she wouldn't have been _dead_ like she is. It's all his fault.

"I think," Pharos says, leaning slightly forward. " _You_ helped her too, you know."

"…What?"

"She's a widower, losing both husband and child in an accident, right?" Pharos asks. When Makoto nods, a bit numb, he continues. "I saw the look on her face. She's alone, with no reason left to live. _You_ are her reason. Her light. _You_ give her hope."

"What kind of light burns everything around it?" He whispers.

Pharos smiles sadly and pats his head. Reminds him of Aragaki's consistent head pat. "You didn't. This all happened because of unfortunate circumstances, that is all. I don't think she regretted staying with you."

"How could you have known something only the dead could answer?"

His smile turns cryptic. "I just do."

* * *

He's sitting on a blue couch, his wounds and the blood still on him, but now he's just sitting there with Pharos humming a tune he knows all too well beside him as he kicks his legs leisurely.

There's so much to think about, but thinking _hurts_ so badly he just wants to disappear. But his mother told him to _live_ , so he's got no choice but to actually put his mind into contemplating everything, just _one more time_.

Thinking is painful. Living is painful. But… that's not all there is to it, is there? He closes his eyes, and recalls all of his _living moments_ he could've thought off. Getting beaten, getting booted out, walking around in the streets… and then, he came here, to Port Island, to Iwatodai.

Being loved. Being cared. Having someone he _wants_ to be close to, having someone he cares about dearly, having someone he _loves_ (his sun). They're all irreplaceable moments he wouldn't have traded for anything. He looks down at his hands. They have stopped shaking a long time go.

"What do you think life is?" Pharos says.

"…Bonds," He says, a small smile on his lips as he closes his eyes and tilts his head up. "Before, I have no one. I'm empty. No friends or family. Everyday is just gray and monotonous."

"And it's different now, isn't it?"

"Yeah," He says with a chuckle. "It is."

Everything has colors, now, dim as they may be. The SEES, the people around him… they give his life some kind of _meaning_. He looks forward to seeing them the next day. He wants to stay with them. He _loves_ all of them, dearly so. He thinks…

"I think… to live, is to connect to others," He voices his thoughts aloud as he opens his eyes. "With those connections, those bonds… you give yourself and your life meaning. And in turn, you give the person you're connected to a part of you, and you're given a part of them."

"…You know," Pharos begins with a cryptic smile, yet again. "I think… you might've already arrived at it… at the Answer."

"The Answer?" He questions, tilting his head slightly.

"Yes. To Life's greatest question. The _Answer to Life_."

Pharos looks up at the endless dark that expands beyond the scope of their senses – or at least, _his_ – with his legs still kicking the air slowly. His smile softens, and so does his eyes. Makoto looks at him a while longer before looking down at the thin film of water that reflects his image. Pharos, however, has no such reflection.

"You know, you're pretty damn interesting," Pharos says, looking at him again. "Most people would've given up trying to make sense of things by now, or given their sanity up to the cruel world. You did neither. You're still here, you're still you… so kind, so gentle."

"I digress," He says with a small laughter. "I'm neither kind nor gentle. I just don't want to see people suffer the way I did."

"That, in and of itself, is the confirmation to my statement," Pharos says before he hops down from the couch. And then, suddenly, there's a long road made from dark red bricks being laid down before him, with the film of reflecting water disappearing into black smokes that embrace both sides of the path.

"What is this?" He asks, reluctantly standing up. He feels strangely cold.

"I told you, whether you live or die half depends on what you're going to do, right?" Pharos states. When he nods in confirmation, the boy continues. "If you want to relinquish your life, you can just sit down. I'll stay with you until the end. But if you want to return—"

"—I'll have to take this path," He stays and walks over, standing before the path of red. He could feel it—if he walks down this road, there's going to be _so much suffering_. "Living is painful. Dying is easy."

"Yes," Pharos says. "And it's your life, your death… the choice is yours. I'll stay by you, like a good friend would do."

He works his jaw again. His death would mean little to the world. The final Full Moon Shadow could be easily handled by the rest of the team. They're strong, and he trusts them. They'll get the job done. At the same time, living… might bring them more pain and more burden. He's not going to make it out from being shot in most of his vital organs unscathed. And the others will be stuck taking care of him.

Living is hard, trying to live is painful, and he's going to become a burden. And yet…

"I want to live."

For the first time, he realizes that he _wants_ to live. Not from the rational part of him, but an _emotional_ part of him that has always been passive and uncaring whether he lives or dies… it tells him that he _wants_ to live. He wants to enjoy life just a little longer. To love and be loved just a bit more. To connect to people and to give them a part of him, as they have a part of them to him before.

He wants to continue living, and experiencing its magnificence, just a little longer.

"Then let's go," Pharos says, leading the way. "Come on. Time never waits, and the longer you waste it staying here, the harder it is to return."

He nods, and follows the mysterious boy closely.

The sounds of his shoes clapping against the hard surface of the brick and his breathing (he couldn't hear _Pharos'_ , for some reason) the only things that ricochet through the boundless space. The road is long and nearly endless, but he could see that small drop of light there at the end. He'll live, even if it hurts. He needs to. He _wants_ to.

The longer he walks, the harder it is to breathe. He feels his heart beating a bit faster. There's some tingling in his hands and legs, and his vision is starting to get hazy. He shakes his head to clear it as he keeps focus on walking, one step at a time.

"The closer we are, the closer to your true physical state becomes," Pharos cautions, looking at him with a sad, sad smile. "It'll hurt a lot."

"I know," He nods, dragging his body forward a little at a time. This is his decision, and he will _not_ fail it, no matter what. "But I chose to live. So I won't back down now."

He can't take the easy way out every time. He _has_ to fight.

"I see," Pharos says. "You're interesting, as always."

After maybe a hundred steps, when he could finally see a single wooden door at the end of the long road, he collapses.

Blood is flooding his left lung, and he _sees_ blood pooling under him. He tries to catch his breath, and is failing with only one lung not filled to the brim with his own blood. His stomach hurts, and red keeps pouring out in torrents. His right leg is useless, as the pain is back and his knee refuses to move.

He groans and decides to slowly drag himself forward, leaving trail of red and bloodied handprint on the already crimson red path. Pharos doesn't say anything, but he's watching. He keeps his focus mostly on the present – one second, one step (or rather, one crawl) at a time.

It feels like chains are dragging him back, pulling his limps down towards the floor. Each lift of his arms and legs are getting harder. Each breath is a battle in itself. Drawing even a small puff of air makes him cough, his left lung all but useless, and his right won't last if this keeps up. But it has to. He has to fight. Just a little more—

He falls to the ground, unable to push himself off it, the gravity working against him. In this place, where he's standing between life and death, _gravity_ is working against him. He tries to get up, again, and again, and _again_ , but his body is screaming at him, and his lungs are burning.

But he can't give up. Only a bit more, and he would've reached that damn door.

He only needs a bit more strength.

"Are you going to give up?"

Pharos is standing in front of him. He looks up, and this time, the boy is offering him his small, cold hand, with a smile on his face. He wills himself to draw in another breath, and with a groan, he takes Pharos' hand with his bloodied, injured one.

" _No_."

"Good," Pharos says as he pulls him towards the burning light. "Then, continue fighting to the best of your abilities. I'll be watching."

And then, all he could see is white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooo yeah. It's actually pretty hard writing this one. The most fun I had is angst-heavy ones, as you can tell. Sorry if this is sub-standard for me.
> 
> But it moves the story along, so who cares, right? :D
> 
> See you Saturday, maybe! Or Sunday! :D


	14. XII: The Sacrificial Hanged Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not gonna run no more," Aragaki states, firm and unflinching. "I ain't gonna run from what the fuck my problem is anymore, and I'm going to face it. I'm gonna face fucking Castor and make it yields. I can't let something like this happen again."
> 
> With that, he presses his forehead against his knuckles.
> 
> And she thinks, that it's the first time in a while that he's cried his heart out like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I... might have already started working on the next project? Oh my FUCK and my first longfic isn't even at its halfway mark yet!
> 
> Oh well, Ideas gotta be put into words, right? :P
> 
> Anyways, also a bit of a slow chapter. Well, don't lemme keep ya!

**_XII: The Sacrificial Hanged Man_ **

_Hanged Man: Sacrifice, Waiting, Contemplation, Perspective_

_Reversed Hanged Man: Stalling, Stagnation, Apathy, Avoidance of Sacrifice_

* * *

She's still shaking.

There was blood _everywhere,_ and it just wouldn't stop no matter what they did.

She couldn't get the image of his _smile_ as he looked up at her, so pale and so weak, out of her head. She could still feel the feeble grip of his hand on hers as she tried to stop the blood gushing out from his chest. She could still _see_ his chest rose and fell slowly, shallowly, _too_ slow to draw in enough air to keep him going. And then he would cough up the blood that's overflowing his left lung.

There's… so much had happened, and she hates it. She hates her powerlessness and her incompetency as she just allows herself to get absolutely _destroyed_ by the Shadows. She looks down at her still bloodied hands, at her sweater now dyed red by _his_ blood, and her bloodied fingers as they tremble almost uncontrollably.

She looks up, and Aragaki is sitting across from her, back hunched, hands clasped together as if he's praying to whatever cruel god it is that has set this all up. His hands are covered in dried, cracked blood that looks like crimson-colored _gloves_ , and he's _shaking_. Amada seems like he doesn't know what to do, seeing his mother's killer (somehow, that came up in the conversation) in this state.

Makoto… he saved Aragaki, both his body and his heart. It explains _everything_. He's spent so much time with the man, and she could only imagine him bearing all of his wounds and his scars and his fears and his past to Aragaki, just to convince him, just to _save_ him. It's a very _Makoto_ thing to do.

She feels the seat beside her dipping down slightly, and turns to see Junpei, an uncharacteristically somber expression on his face. She only manages out a half-broken smile before she has to swallow back the sob that's been trying to get out of her throat since he's been wheeled into the ER, bloodied and broken and unconscious.

Junpei carefully, _very_ carefully, puts a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. She doesn't do anything, only keeping her fingers pressed together, using the feeling to keep her heart as calm as she could. She looks up to see Fuuka and Kirijou talking together quietly, while Amada just sits by Aragaki's side, with Sanada occupying the other, an arm slung around the other man's shoulders.

"Yukari-cchi," Junpei begins. When she hums in acknowledgements, he continues. "He'll be okay."

"…I hope," She whispers. The amount of blood, and the way he just went limp in her hand, and the way his breathing slowed to almost a halt, and the way his heartbeat got so fast and so _weak_ are not at all convincing. "I… just, why?"

"Yukari-cchi…"

"Why must it always be him?" She whimpers, curling into herself. She sees Aragaki looking at her with a pained expression, but she shakes her head. It's not the man's fault. "He's been in _hell on earth_ for almost his entire life, and now this…? Why would the world or whatever gods there is do _this_ to him? To a person who's _this_ kind and _this_ compassionate?"

"I'm sorry," Aragaki grits out. "If I had been a bit stronger, or more cautious, he wouldn't have to protect me, and he could've protected himself instead…!"

"If you're going to blame anyone," Sanada begins, loud enough for the both of them to hear. "Blame it on the one who did this, not the gods, not yourself for trying your best. Blame all of this on Strega for shooting him."

"I understand now… this must be how you felt, why you turn into a battle maniac, huh, Aki?" Aragaki says with a broken laughter. "This feeling of powerlessness is just too fucking much. If I was a bit stronger, this could've – _would've_ been avoided."

"Yeah," Sanada says, looking at the ground and smiles. "This is exactly what I thought, back then."

"Aragaki-san…" Amada begins, but he stops himself, looking away. None of them pressure the boy to continue, but he does anyway, probably because of his own necessity. "If I hadn't been so caught up by the idea of revenge, maybe… maybe this wouldn't have—"

"Kid, this _ain't_ your fault," Aragaki cuts the boy off promptly. "You seeking revenge is the result of _my_ weakness, of my inability to face my problems head on, of my cowardice as I run away from the truth. It ain't on you. It's all on _me_."

"Shinji…"

"I'm not gonna run no more," Aragaki states, firm and unflinching. "I ain't gonna run from what the fuck my problem is anymore, and I'm going to face it. I'm gonna face fucking Castor and make it yields. I can't let something like this happen again."

With that, he presses his forehead against his knuckles.

And she thinks, that it's the first time in a while that he's _cried_ his heart out like that.

* * *

She wakes up lying on a couch, a coat (Aragaki's, she reckons) draped over her like a blanket.

She isn't even sure when the hell she's fallen asleep, but it must've been a good while back, because the sun is already _way_ past the horizon. She doesn't have it in her to question why she isn't dragged to school just yet, and she seriously isn't going to complain, either.

She sits up and rubs the sleepiness away from her eyes. When she looks around, she finds herself in a white room with glass pane on one side facing the city, and there are equipments of various kinds ready, with a large bed in the middle. She looks around, and it takes a moment for her to realize that this is a _private ICU room_.

The bathroom door slides open, and she's locking her eyes with Aragaki, who's only with his turtleneck shirt, the beanie in his hands, his hair a bird's nest and a bit wet. He just looks at her, long enough to make her feel a bit uncomfortable, before he walks over and sits a palm's width away from her foot. She sits up fully and throws her legs down to the floor, then offers him back his coat.

He takes it with a small nod and puts it back on. Only then does she actually notice that he's shivering, even if it's just minutely. She just curls into herself a little more before murmuring. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Aragaki says quietly. "I asked Mitsuru to let you stay. Looks like you need it."

"Thanks," She says again, closing her eyes and buries her face into her hands. She's lost. Even if the blood's somehow washed out of her hands (who did that? Herself? Aragaki?), she could still feel the warmth of it coating her fingers as she desperately tried to stop the red from flowing.

She doesn't look up, but feels Aragaki scooting closer. She doesn't have enough physical or mental energy to do anything, so she just sits there. Then she feels his hand, callous and large and rough, gently patting her head, like the way he always does with Makoto whenever they're together (which is pretty often). It takes him maybe a few minutes to accompany that with words. "I'm sorry."

"S'not your fault," She mumbles, straightening up and leaning back onto the couch again. She looks up at the ceiling, at the lightbulb, and just tries to focus on something. "You did what you had to in order to straighten things out with Amada-kun. It's just a Makoto thing to stop someone else from getting killed and get shot himself."

"It kinda is, huh," Aragaki huffs a laughter at that. He then rests his chin on his palm and looks towards the door connected to the outside. "They said the surgery has just finished, and they'll be moving him up here soon if nothing changes in the recovery room."

She could feel her fear melting away slightly at that. Yukari then lets out one long sigh. "That's good."

A pause. "…Do you want to know what happened, or would you rather not?"

She frowns. Of course, going in with those kind of injuries means… they'd have to do a lot. She glances at the clock that reads _2.37 pm_ , which means it's more or less 14 hours of him in there. It's… long. Very long. She isn't even sure if she wants to hear it or not.

In the end, she thinks she _has_ to. "…Against my better judgement, yeah."

"…Hemopneumothorax," Aragaki begins with a small frown as he reads from a small notebook. How caring and attentive is he, really? "A part of lung destroyed. Shattered scapular. Three broken ribs. Punctured small and large bowel. Limited injury to mesentery artery and renal vessels. Shattered patella and fractured tibia. Bone loss of index and middle metacarpal bones. Strictly speaking, without the use of Personas, he's going to need _at least_ a few _months_ to recover."

Her breath hitches. The list is way too long, and even medically-illiterate like her could understand that the injuries are _severe_. She hugs herself and forces back the tears threatening to fall down from her eyes. And she's the _healer_ of this group, so she knows that even Personas can't perform _miracles_. Even if she manages to get him back to fighting shape, he won't be the same. He _might_ be functioning at one hundred percent, but there will be pain afterwards, that's for certain.

"…I'm going to need a few nights to…" She trails off, unable to finish. She _has_ to do it. She's the only one who could pull something like this off. Every bits of her power counts. "I'll do it."

"I've told Mitsuru as much," Aragaki nods, patting her head again and ruffling her hair slightly. She finds that she doesn't dislike the feeling. "The biggest problem, however, ain't his injuries."

"…What?"

"He lost lots of blood," He explains with a deep scowl. "And the surgery is extensive and big. They said he _flatlined_ during the operation a few times."

She gasps, and has to bite her lip hard to stop herself from crying. But – flatlined. That means he _died_ in there… a few times? He temporarily _died?_ "Is… is he going to be okay?"

"They don't know," Aragaki responds, and before she could protest it, he's throwing one arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him, her face in his chest. He's rough, but he's warm. "Flatlining means the brain won't get enough oxygen. They don't know if he'll…"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence for the truth to sink in.

 _They don't know if he'll be able to wake up or not_.

"Why…?" She says, her voice trembling, and she finally _cries_ , the tears flowing like water through broken dam. She couldn't stop. She's _afraid_ , of losing him. He's so kind, so warm… why? "Why is this the reward for his kindness? Hasn't the world taken enough away from him already?"

Her hands are gripping and clawing at his coat, and she's _weeping_. She's scared. He's always been so gentle, and so caring, but at the same time so wronged and so broken. He deserves better than this. He didn't even have a _full year_ to actually _live_ , goddamnit!

It feels wrong. Everything feels so wrong and she's _powerless_ to change it.

"Please… somehow, please be okay. Please don't leave me. I'm scared…!"

She cries and cries and _cries_ again until she falls back asleep in Aragaki's arm.

* * *

When she wakes up again, the bed's—

She bolts up, ignoring the groan in her arms and legs, stiff from the wrong positioning, ripping herself away from Aragaki's arm. Her hands reach forward and grab his, bandaged up with _steel rods_ connecting his bones together.

He's so _pale_ , is the first thing she notices. His breath is steady only because there's a _tube_ down his throat, connecting him to the ventilator. There's also another, longer tube coming _out_ of his left chest and into a set of connected glass bottles right under the bed. His right knee is put together and held into place with another set of steel rods that pierced through his skin to connect his broken bones and keep them in place.

Her legs just give out right then, with her hands still holding his cold, unmoving one tightly. And before she could stop it, she's crying again, her voice raw. It hurts to breathe, but she just couldn't care anymore as she keeps crying, relief and afraid. He has a _pulse_ right under her fingertips. He – his _body_ is alive. But they don't know if he will wake up or not.

All she could do now is hope and wait.

Someone's hands grab her arms, firm but not rough. Aragaki slowly pulls her up, before something hard hits the back of her knees. She looks back to see a chair, and the older man just pushes her down onto it. She blinks, dumbfounded, before saying in an unsure voice. "Thank… you…?"

"No problem," He says, scratching his head. "Can you really heal someone back to health when they're… like that?"

"No," She shakes her head. "I can heal _some_ of it, but… I'll need him to wake up to make sure I don't mess it up. I'm medically illiterate, and my power isn't that strong… _yet_ , so healing someone while they're _awake_ is the only way I can make sure they'll be back to a hundred."

"Just make sure to heal him up as much as you could before he's conscious, then," Aragaki says, crossing his arms and sighing. "After you're done today, you should go back."

"But—"

"Can you heal someone well if you're exhausted?" Aragaki shoots back almost immediately. She winces under his intense, almost accusatory, gaze.

"…No."

"Then it's settled. After today, go back to rest," He orders. She could only nod as she looks down at his cold hand and squeezes it gently. Makoto's so _cold_. Then, she feels a hand on her head again. "Don't worry, I'll take care of 'im while you're not here."

"…Thanks, Aragaki-senpai," She says quietly, before letting out a quiet giggle. "You know, I think him calling you a _mother hen_ is right on target."

"Oh, _shut up_ ," He grumbles. "He's just like a lil' brother to me. A dysfunctional, pessimistic, depressive, sarcastic bundle of kindness that needs lots of loves and lots of healing."

"Yeah," She hums. "He is, huh."

Almost by reflex, she starts running her fingers along the scars in his right hand again, as much as she could without going under the bandages. The sound of the ventilator pumping air and helping him breathe is soothing enough for her to not break down just yet. She's just… going to try to keep herself busy with doing whatever she can, until he wakes up.

_He has to._

"…Hey," Aragaki begins, and she only hums to acknowledge him. He doesn't say anything for a while, and only continues when she thinks he's not going to. "…There're lots of scars on his chest."

She blinks before finally looking up. His hospital gown is left untied due to the severity of his wounds and the need to monitor his ECG and all of that. It's only then does she actually have a good look at his chest – aside from that large twisted scar that looks like someone ripped the flesh out of his chest and slapped it back, there are jagged lines running along almost every last bit of his skin.

She remembers them. Not all, but _most_ , since she's traced her fingers on his body herself. She bites her lip and nods, not daring to speak. Yukari exhales before reaching her hand towards the scar – the scar he would flinch away when she touched it. She _wishes_ he would do just that, but there are no responses but the silence and the sound of beeping machines and air being pumped.

"He never told me where he got this," She murmurs, still running her fingers carefully along the warped, redden skin. It must've hurt, getting his skin marred to the point of it being like this.

Aragaki sighs. "The kid mentioned that one, but never showed me. Said he got it way back on the Bridge, 1999, or something. He said he doesn't remember, but it looks like it came from being burnt to me."

"…I see," She murmurs. "He confided in you a lot, huh?"

He rarely told her anything, only bits and pieces that would make her uneasy, but not outright worried or terrified. It really stings to know that he told someone else a lot, but not her. But then again, she doubts she'll tell _anyone_ anything if she's in his position.

"Maybe more than he should," Aragaki scratches his head. "Who in the fucking right mind would bare all his wounds for me to see just to help me? I swear to god almighty this kid's got a few screws loose in his head."

"I think you're right," She laughs quietly. "He's too kind for his own good."

"You tell me," He mutters before patting her head again. "I'mma go out for a bit to get food. Instant craps are gonna be our staple for a few days."

"No worries, you can make up later when everyone's back at the dorm," She says, hopeful. Everyone, _including_ Makoto. "Deal?"

"Deal."

* * *

She couldn't focus in classes, like, at all.

Junpei is unusually quiet, too, and she thinks his usual loud self is welcome right now. But then again, Makoto is his friend, so she doesn't think he's actually free from feeling guilt, either.

She finds herself sitting alone in class at lunch, too numb to move, and not hungry enough to eat a damn thing, either. She sighs and flops her head down onto her crossed arms. There's no one in the seat behind her (she wants him to be here), only silence and a bit of rumors that had mostly died down since Kirijou's public execution.

…She was there to witness it. Being executed by Kirijou is something at the very bottom of the list of things she wants to ever experience.

She's done all that she says could, closing up wounds that she's able to. All that's left are his broken and missing bones and his collapsed lung. She'll do that if—no, _when_ he wakes up. When would that be, though? Today? Next week? Next month…?

She shakes her head, getting rid of the thoughts.

Once the school's over, she heads for the station, as usual. Much to her surprise, however, Sanada and Amada are there. She waves at them as soon as they turn to look. "Sanada-senpai, Amada-kun. It's a surprise. What gives?"

"Been a few days, so we thought we wanna pay Yuuki a visit," Sanada answers. "Shinji's still skipping school, but he's keeping his grades up just fine. And to think he's spending his time with Yuuki. At this point, calling him a _mother_ is not as far-fetch, huh."

She giggles. "And he's still red every single time I grilled him about it. You should try, Senpai. It's fun."

"I guess I will," Sanada says. "Hey, Amada, why're you so quiet?"

"It's just," He mumbles, fidgeting on his feet slightly. "I mean… I'm still angry at Aragaki-san, but… he's now trying to make up for it. It makes me… think. And Yuuki-san wouldn't have been shot like he did if I hadn't called Aragaki-san out there alone like that."

"Hey," Yukari says, kneeling down and patting the boy's shoulder. "No one is blaming you. We understand, really. It's not your fault, okay?"

"…Okay."

After that, she gives Amada a pat on the head (Aragaki must've been rubbing off on her, huh) before heading over with them to the hospital.

As usual, Aragaki is waiting for them outside, with his usual scowl and his red coat. When he spots them, he seems a bit surprised, especially when he sees Amada. But he just gives them a small nod and walks halfway to meet them.

"Hey, Shinji," Sanada greets. "How're you doing?"

"Same, same," He says. "…There's a bit of change. You said your Persona turned into Caesar, and yours to Kala-nemi, right, Amada?"

"Uh, yes," The boy says. Yukari tilts her head slightly at that. She's heard that the two of their Personas changes due to their resolves. In Sanada's case, to fight and protect people he holds dear, and for Amada's, to live on for his mother. She doesn't have a single clue what happened, but it seems this is something between the three of them, and it looks like Makoto's… injuries facilitated it.

"…Mine's changed, too," He says quietly. The boxer gives him quite a stink eye, but the taller man just smiles in return – something rare, coming from him. "From Castor, to _Chiron_ … with my resolve to live for someone else. Kinda funny, when that _someone_ _else_ is right at Death's fucking door."

"Shinji," Sanada begins, patting his shoulder lightly. The boy looks like he wants to say something too, but she thinks he's going to save that for later. "Don't make me punch reason into you. It's not your fault—"

"Dude, I get it, but there's no way in hell you wouldn't think like I am if you're in my position," Aragaki snaps back, but doesn't pull away. With another sigh, he jerks his head towards the door. "Come on, let's go inside already."

They dutifully follow.

* * *

She's getting too used to the beeping and the hissing of the ventilator.

Aragaki and Amada have both excused themselves outside, leaving her with Sanada standing beside her as she grips on Makoto's cold, unmoving hand tightly. They said something about talking the rest of their (or rather, Amada's) grudges out. She hopes they'll be alright and not at each other's throat afterwards.

"I kind of get why Shinji's so protective of him, now," The boxer says with a small smile. "He looks so small like this, a stark contrast to when he's barking orders inside Tartarus, don't you think?"

"Yeah," She says with a small smile, squeezing his hand just a bit more. She watches as his chest rises and falls rhythmically, slowly—almost too slowly for her likings. She reaches up to brush strands of stray hair off his eyes. "He's… like a different person when he's leading us. Strong and tactical."

"It's hard to remember that he's just a high school kid when you spent more time with him during the Dark Hour than out of it," Sanada mutters, rubbing his chin lightly. "You know what, I'm going to join him and Shinji's little shenanigans next time, just to get to know him a little better."

"…Shenanigans?" She repeats.

"You know Shinji's always the one who pick him up after his sessions, right?" Sanada asks. When she nods in affirmation, he continues. "They spent the time walking all over the island just because. I think it was Yuuki's idea to stray off their path first, but Shinji kinda bit on the bait and in the end, the two of them would wind up someplace weird half the time, usually bars or restaurants."

"…Really?" She says, tilting her head. "I mean, they have never returned _that_ late, like, ever?"

"That's why they were able to keep doing it."

"…Huh."

After that, it's just them talking about things the other doesn't know about Makoto. From Sanada's viewpoint, his knowledge of the Leader comes from whatever short conversations they have during Tartarus, or from Aragaki himself. She finds it quite funny to hear that he acts like a total nerdy dork with _Aragaki_ , of all people, and the older boy is enabling his behavior, to boot.

Sanada seems surprised, too, that Makoto is quite passionate (and a bit awkward) when it comes to… well, _her_ in general. He's only socially inept when it concerns _normal_ interactions. He can pick up body languages and subtle signs in the way people talk or move really well, which makes him so kind (and just so lovable, at least to her) and such a good leader.

Combined with his deduction skills, it makes him both caring… and _scary_. To think he _deduced_ that Aragaki killed Amada's mother (even by accident) with just body languages and whatever little bits of information he'd heard off-handedly kind of make her a little nervous.

They talk for a while, and end their conversation when Aragaki and Amara return. She isn't sure if it's just her or not, but they look… a bit lighter, perhaps?

"Yo, you two having fun?" Sanada asks with a grin as he pats her shoulder lightly.

" _Fun_ is a stretch," Aragaki says, before looking down at Amada, who's _smiling slightly_ at him. Even if it's small, that's progress. "But… yeah, we talked things out. Kinda. Will need a bit more time, though."

"Aragaki-san is quite awkward when it comes to speaking kindly," Amada points out. Sanada outright _laughs_ at the other's face, while the man in question just goes beet red. "It's kind of funny, seeing him struggling for words."

"Man, now I wish I could see it. Gotta ask Mitsuru to find someone to take the photo—"

"Fuck _off_ , Aki!"

They continue to banter lightly, and she smiles. They seem so close, and the atmosphere is lighter like this.

Her eyes return to Makoto as he sleeps, and she reaches to tug his hair behind his ear again, just to see his face a little better. She hates the way there are steel rods coming out of him to keep his bones together. If she could heal that while he's like this… she shakes her head and sighs.

"Wake up already, sleepyhead," She murmurs, her fingers cold as she curls them over his gently. "Don't keep me waiting."

She feels the same rough hand on her head again as Aragaki tousles her hair softly with a thin smile. The other two just sit there on the couch, watching. She just smiles up at the older boy as he speaks. "Come on, kid, don't be so down."

"Sorry," She mumbles. "Well, I better join you guys now and start talking, right?"

"Yeah," He says. "Come on. Rest your heart for a bit, huh?"

She nods, and pulls her hand—

There's a gentle squeeze on her fingers.

She stops, and that makes Aragaki turns back. She isn't sure if that's just her feeling things or not, so she squeezes his hand lightly again.

This time, instead of a squeeze, she hears the sound of him _shifting_ on the bed. And she looks up, to see those kind, steel-gray eyes looking at her.

It takes her maybe a moment too long to register it.

And then, she's crying.

"Welcome back, Makoto."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh... how should I put this--
> 
> the story from this point on is significantly slower in terms of time-progression, from October to January, yeah, all the fun stuffs. And, I have split XXI into two -- the World, and The Universe. :D Hope you guys enjoy this fic to the end!
> 
> And the new work? By the time I finish uploading this fic, which would probably be a month or two, I might've spat out more than a few chapters already. When will I update? Dunno, but be sure to stay tuned, guys!
> 
> Alright, rambling over. Take care, see you next week!


	15. XIII: Death, Defied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once they're outside, he takes a moment to breathe in the slightly chilly air and let the breeze caress his skin and ruffles his hair. He opens his eyes and smiles up at the sky.
> 
> "Life is beautiful, isn't it?"
> 
> The other two're looking at him, puzzled, but Yukari is smiling as she takes his right hand into hers and squeezes gently.
> 
> "Yeah," She says with a warm, breathtaking smile that makes him fall in love all over again. "It is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, no update on this weekends cuz, you know, new year? I have work to do on NEW YEAR'S DAY, PEOPLE, WHAT THE FUCK
> 
> *inhales*
> 
> anyways, this chapter and the next few are a bit of a slice of life. Don't get bored first! Drama will ensues in due time, I can assure you. Especially the last four chapters. Those are heavy, HEAVY shits, right there.

**_XIII: Death, Defied_ **

_Death: End of Cycle, Beginning, Change, Metamorphosis, Release, Letting Go_

_Reversed Death: Fear of Change, Holding On, Stagnation, Decay_

* * *

It hurts.

But he's _alive_.

To be completely honest, he isn't at all surprised to see — rather, to _feel_ — that he's been intubated and whatever else they did to his body. Takaya did quite a number on him, after all.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Yukari there, with Aragaki (he's glad the man's alive, thank god) and maybe some more people, he isn't sure, his head is still heavy and his eyes still couldn't see much else except for the white walls and the _pink_ and the dark red overcoat.

"Welcome back, Makoto," She whispers. He wants to smile and say that he's here, he's _home_ (they're his home. This place is his home), but he can't, so he settles for a slow blink and a gentle squeeze to say that, _yes, I'm here._

"Damn, that took you a while," Aragaki says with a rumbling laughter. Then that familiar large, rough hand is on his head, patting it. He closes his eyes and leans against the touch slightly. "Welcome back to the waking world, kid."

"I'm going to tell the others right away," He hears someone from the other side of the bed, and he glances there to see Sanada grinning at him. "Good afternoon, Yuuki."

He manages to nod a little before going back to looking at Yukari as she's crying and smiling (stop, don't cry, come on, he's alive), with Aragaki just awkwardly trying to help her calm down. He spies Amada giving him a short bow, so he lifts his hand slightly (ow, _fuck_ , that hurts) to acknowledge him.

Everything's still a blur. He's scored himself a few new large-ass scars (nice, just nice) and he's still exhausted to the bones. He isn't sure if he could keep himself awake any longer or not, so he just closes his eyes and settles down.

"Oh, he's going to go back to sleep," He hears a person— who is this, Aragaki? He thinks it's Aragaki — murmurs. "Looks like he's dead tired, huh."

"If that pun is intended, Shinji, I'm going to punch you."

"It's _not!_ "

Someone squeezes his hand lightly again, and he manages to crack his eyes open just a little to see a soft smile on Yukari's face.

"It's okay. I'll see you later."

He nods, and lets himself fall back asleep.

* * *

Having the tube pulled out of his throat is a weird, unpleasant sensation.

The moment the apparatus leaves his windpipe, he coughs and coughs, rattling his broken bones and his lung even more, and those hurt like being flattened by Castor. He groans and tries to breathe normally, a careful hand ( _hers_ ) on his shoulder to keep him grounded, another gripping his hand tightly.

"How're you feeling?" Yukari questions, wiping the stray tear collecting at the corner of his eyes away. He thinks Aragaki is close by, but he isn't too sure.

"…Hurt," He rasps, his voice a whisper, hoarse and rough. He coughs again after saying that, and his left hand instinctively pushes down on his abdomen to reduce the pain. After a while, he manages to catch his breath, and frowns a little. He then spies Aragaki looking at a small pocketbook. "…?"

"It's nothing, kid. Don't worry about it," He quickly diffuses, putting the book back. "Just some recipes I cooked up."

"We're planning a party once you're discharged," Yukari explains, tugging the hair covering his eye away. He breathes and nods. "You'll have to stay awake during the Dark Hour, though, because I'll have to heal the rest of your injuries so that they won't be debilitating."

"…'Kay," He whispers, shifting slightly. Every bit of his body feels like it's been thoroughly stampeded to minced meat and brought back to life. He wonders how long will the pain last, but decides to not dwell too much on it. Then, a question comes to mind. He inhales deeply once. "How long…?"

"…Almost a week," She replies quietly, her finger tracing the tiny scars on his hand, like she always does.

"I'm sorry,"He murmurs, and lifts his left hand to hers, squeezing it. He then looks up at Aragaki and smiles before whispering. "How're you and…"

"We talked it out," Aragaki says. "My Persona has changed, too. It's now called Chiron."

Chiron, the centaur? Huh… it's quite fitting, when he thinks about it. "…That's good."

"I know what you're fucking thinking," The man half-growls at him. " _Fitting_ my ass. I swear to god you and Aki share brain cells when it comes to teasing me."

He croaks out a laugh which is immediately followed by dry coughs. He lifts up his hand to stop Yukari as he settles down. "Because it's fun."

"Yeah, yeah, fuck you."

He's still tired, and he's hurt all over, but he's _so glad_ he took Pharos' hand and not backing down. He wants to be here, even if it hurts.

"Well then," Aragaki speaks up again as he walks over to pat his head, and then Yukari's, before heading towards the door. "You two need some alone time together. I'mma grab food and whatever else, and I'll be back in maybe a few hours. You want anything in particular?"

Yukari shakes her head, then glances at him a little. When he just gives her a smile, she giggles and turns to the older boy. "Not that we can think of, no."

"Then see ya later," He waves, and exits the room.

For a while, the only sounds in the room are the beeping of various monitors and his own slightly labored breathing. He takes a moment to look a bit around, at all the devices and at the glass pane and the scenery outside. Finally, his gaze lands on her.

She looks like she hasn't been sleeping much, the bags under her eyes prominent. She's paler than he remembers, and her eyes are puffy and a bit red. She must've cried a lot. She's smiling, and reaching a hand to touch his cheek. He hums and leans into her palm, always so warm and so tender, before putting his own uninjured hand over it.

"You look tired," He murmurs, curling his fingers over hers ever so slightly. The hole in his hand _hurts_ , but he ignores it. He presses her hand firmer against his cheek before pulling it to his mouth and kissing the knuckles. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "It's nothing you should be apologizing for. You did something incredible, you know… and I'm _proud_ of you."

"I see," He whispers, putting her hand over his own beating heart, ignoring the ache of his scar and his gunshot wound. "Still… I made you worry."

"A lot," She hums with a soft laughter before she traces her fingers along his chest, sending shivers down his spine and setting fire on his skin. "I'm just glad you're awake now."

He exhales and relaxes further into the bed. "How long until I'm going to be up and about?"

She just gives him a look. "You're not serious."

"…I am?"

"Good _god_ , Makoto, don't be such a workaholics!" She half-snaps, squeezing his hand extra hard and making him yelp. She quickly pulls away. "Sorry!"

"Not your fault," He mutters. "But I'm serious… How long will it take?"

"A week," She says with a slight frown as she retakes his hand again. She then pushes her fingers lightly against his forehead. "Seriously, get your mind off the Dark Hour for a bit and get some rest. You've more than _earned_ it."

"Okay," He sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "I just want to get out of bed and do something."

"I know," She whispers, caressing his hand carefully, gently, like she's always done. "I know."

* * *

Just as she's promised, it takes a full week's worth of Dark Hours for her to completely heal his injuries.

The feeling of his bones and tendons recreating themselves is kind of new, and he isn't even sure whether he likes it, hates it, neither, or both. But, just as he's suspected (he would know, he has Personas that can heal, too), she couldn't quite completely get rid of the damages his body has received, so there are scars on his hand and his knee. His two fingers on his right hand, index and middle, lose most of their sensations, and there's _always_ pain accompanying some of the movements of both his fingers and his leg.

He doesn't really mind the pain, too accustomed to it by his own hands. He doesn't tell anyone about it, however. He doesn't need Yukari fussing over him again when she's already having so much on her own plate. And he's not going to bother Aragaki with something this _light_. It's not worthy of anyone's attentions.

As he's sitting on the bed after the doctors have examined him and is clearing him for discharged, he sees Yukari walking in with Junpei and Yamagishi. As soon as they're in, he greets them with his right hand, the scar prominent and the shape deformed.

He notices the scowl on their faces when they see the scars, but soon wipe it away. Junpei walks over and slings his arm over his shoulders "You're finally coming back, huh, dude?"

"Personal Space," He grumbles, wriggling his way out of the other boy's grip. "And yes, I'm cleared for discharged, now. Just some paperworks left."

"Congratulations, Yuuki-kun," Yamagishi says with a smile. "And I'm sorry, for not being able to help out more."

"You've done plenty," He says as he buttons up his shirt. It's a struggle—he isn't used to the diminished feelings in his fingers just yet. But then Yukari sees it and pushes his hands away before slowly helping him. He wants to protest, but the stink eye she's giving him is enough to shut him up.

"You sure you can walk without aid, though?" Junpei inquires, looking pointedly at his knee.

"Yes," He says, and after Yukari's done with his shirt, he pushes himself off the bed and stands. His knee actually doesn't hurt that badly, and it's not at all stiff. "See? No problem."

"Well damn, you're a miracle worker, Yukari-cchi!" Junpei says with a laughter and pats his back _hard_ , almost making him fall over has he not caught the bed in time. And of all the place to hit, it's gotta be the shoulder with the shattered scapula, too.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!"

"Junpei, you brute!" Yukari hisses and slaps his arm, making him pull away. "Makoto, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," He mumbles, standing up straight and ignoring the ache in his back. He couldn't help but smile, however. "I'm alright, don't worry."

"But, those are some scarring, Yuuki-kun," Yamagishi says, looking at his hand. He lifts it up, and after seeing her expression, offers it to her. She is a bit reluctant, and way too gentle as she flips his hand around, taking in the full extensions of the scar.

It looks more than just a hole—it looks like there was a miniature explosion going off, blasting the flesh of his hand right into oblivion and leaving a _crater_ behind. Not to mention that the bullet shattered his Evoker, embedding the gunpowder and the metal into his wound. He's asked, and the doctors said they had to remove most of his flesh to prevent the infection. Hence, the scarring.

Yamagishi lets his hand go after a while. "Does it hurt when you move?"

He clenches and unclenches his hand repeatedly to make a point. It hurts, but only a little. He'll get used to it. So he lies. "It doesn't."

"That's good."

Yukari is giving him a strange look, but he decides to ignore it for now. "So, is Aragaki-senpai going to be cooking tonight?"

"Absolutely!" Junpei cheers. "Man, it still surprises me seeing him cooking in an apron. It just ain't my image of him, you know."

"I get it," He says, lips curling into a small smile. That man is much kinder than he'd let on, and gentle when he wants and needs to. A bit rough around the edges, but a good person. "Still, would he be okay cooking alone for all of us? I mean, I have quite an appetite."

Yamagishi and Yukari laugh at that. Then the former says, "I'm sure he'll be fine. He's already gotten started when we left."

"I see."

They chat for a while longer before the nurse arrives with a smile and gives him a bunch of meds he'll need to take (that makes it _twelve_ pills per day already, goddamnit) before shooing all of them out with a smile.

Once they're outside, he takes a moment to breathe in the slightly chilly air and let the breeze caresses his skin and ruffles his hair. He opens his eyes and smiles up at the sky.

"Life is beautiful, isn't it?"

The other two're looking at him, puzzled, but Yukari is smiling as she takes his right hand into hers and squeezes gently.

"Yeah," She says with a warm, breathtaking smile that makes him fall in love all over again. "It is."

* * *

The dinner is lively.

He tries to help Aragaki, but the man promptly shoots him down and forces him to sit on the dining table with the others.

The food, as expected, is the _best_. He thinks he might've asked for a _few_ seconds. Sanada is having a fun time grilling Aragaki about everything, and the man being flustered really is always a treat. He joins in with the teasing, and almost had his head ripped off as the man fumes. Totally worth it.

He notices Yukari being unusually quiet, and when he asks her why, she just shrugs. But the look in her eyes is enough to tell him that she wants to say something, probably. He just smiles and holds her hand. She doesn't resist, so he just squeezes it a little before letting go and goes back to his meal.

They spend the next hour or so just talking. Kirijou asks if he's okay, and he says he's fine. Every _single time_ he says that, however, he would catch Yukari looking at him with a scowl that she'd wipe off her face as soon as she catches his eyes. He wants to ask what all that was about, but refrains from doing so; she'll tell him when she wants to.

He really doesn't have to wait long.

As soon as he gets up and is about to head to his room, she's there, grabbing his wrist and pulling him up. He doesn't resist, but the way she tenses and the way her brows would knot together worry him. She's… it's not anger, but _frustrations?_

When they get into his room, the first thing she does is to push him towards the bed and forces him down. A few second later, he finds himself without his coat, his shirt half-unbuttoned, with Yukari sitting on his lap and preventing his escape.

"Yuka—"

"Why do you always have to lie?"

He stops, carefully watching her as she unbuttons his shirt with trembling fingers. He frowns a little, but offers no answer as she undoes the last button and carefully pushes his shirt away from his torso, her hands tracing on the scars, again. She scowls as she touches the surgical wound that cut from his left chest, circling around to almost the middle of his back like he's been sliced open. She stops when he hissed.

"You are in pain," She says, tracing the surgical scar tenderly, slowly. He winces almost all the way, and even though his reaction is slight, he knows she could still tell that it _hurts_. "It hurts, isn't it? Why don't you just say so? I told you, right? That you can tell me everything."

He doesn't respond. He doesn't know what he should say. He knows what she said is true, that he _should've_ told her the things that's been bothering him. But he really can't bring himself to; the pain is slight, and they're not debilitating. He doesn't see the need, so he just let it slide.

Upon his silence, she sighs, pulling his right hand up and nudging at the new scar, and starts massaging the two fingers most affected by it. She keeps her focus on the two digits for a while before she says. "I know you think this is not a big deal to you. But it _is_ to me, so _please_ , just… talk to me."

…Oh.

That's right; it's no longer just him. She has already given him a part of her, hasn't she? That's why…

He looks away, pressing his mouth into a thin line. He curls his fingers slightly. "…I can barely feel them at all… mostly pressure, but not light touch."

She smiles sadly at that as she puts his hand to her cheek, pressing it firmly against her skin, her fingers slowly caressing his own. "So that's why you have problem buttoning up back at the hospital."

He hums.

She then puts his hand down and traces the scar on his chest, one by one. He hisses when she reaches the same surgical scar on his chest. "Are all of them painful to you?"

"…Yes," He replies softly, looking anywhere but at her as she traces the scar all the way to his back. Then at the bullet wound on his chest, large and slightly blackened due to the remnants of unwashed smoke and gunpowders. He sighs and forces himself to relax as her hand moves further down.

He chances a glance to see her frowning slightly, her hands stopping before the surgical scar that spans from his solar plexus all the way down past the waistline. "…It's too big."

He lets out a huff. "It is."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not as much as the one on the chest," He replies, shifting slightly so he could sit up with her still in his lap. She seems to be too focused on his pain to notice the peculiarity and the suggestiveness of this position, but he won't be saying anything. He puts his hand on her head and pats it softly.

"I'm not a dog, you know," She murmurs absently, her hands tracing the scar, making him winces only a little.

"Hey," He whispers, drawing her attention up. He smiles a little before kissing her lips briefly. "It'll be okay. The pain's easy to deal with."

She bites her lip. "I don't want you to be in pain _at all_. Is that too much to ask for?"

"Unfortunately, yes," He murmurs. "But, I'm still here, I'm still alive. Being in a bit of pain every now and then doesn't sound so bad."

She sighs and presses her forehead against his. "I guess that's true."

He smiles and shifts a little. Even healed, his body still aches and is exhausted. He doesn't really mind it. He's alive, after all. She has closed her eyes, now, and her breath is a little shaky. Scared, perhaps. He hums again and rests his hand in the crook of her neck, tracing the skin right at the edge of the choker with his unfeeling fingers.

Much to his surprise, she responds by hooking both of her arms around his neck and kissing him, a bit eager, and also a bit desperate.

He puts both of his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. She nibbles and bites at his lips a little, and he hums in respond as she deepens the kiss and pushes him back down into the mattress.

Her hands afterwards are searching, a bit distressed, but careful and light as she ghosts them over his skin, from his neck down to his torso, setting his nerves alight and making him shiver with both nervousness and anticipation. He isn't really used to gentle touches, but he finds that he _wants_ them, especially when they come from her.

She breaks the kiss first, panting. He just looks into her eyes, to see all the affection and the _fear_ that accompanies it like shadow. He frowns a little, his hands remaining on her neck, hovering a little, unsure. She just holds onto him tightly, a hand in his hair, caressing, pulling.

"I'm afraid," She whispers, and he notices that she's trembling, and her palms are sweaty. He blinks a few times before she continues. "I'm afraid of losing you. I _can't_ lose you, no matter what."

He can't say anything to that. Promising that he will live is… it's something he can't outright do. Their work in the SEES is hazardous, and she should know this best. But he understands. He's lost many people dear to him before, so he knows.

And that's what makes this even more painful.

"Makoto," She begins, pulling back slightly so she could look him in the eyes. "Please, promise me you'll not leave me behind."

_Promise me that you won't die._

He forces out a small smile. "You know I can't promise you that."

"I don't care," She whimpers. "Promise me you'll not leave me. Promise me you'll do your best to get rid of the Dark Hour _and_ live afterwards."

"Yukari—"

" _Please_ ," Her voice is broken, and she's on the verge of crying, he could tell that much. It breaks his heart to see her this way. "Please, just promise me that you'll live. I've already lost my dad. I don't want to lose another person."

Even without the promise, he'll try his best to live, of course. However, the threat of death remains just the same.

But, against his better judgement, he will make it. Just to quell her uneasiness, even a little.

"Okay," He whispers. "I promise."

She nods, and kisses him again.

He couldn't find it in him to refuse.

* * *

He wakes up in the early morning to Yukari's soft, rhythmic breathing against his chest.

He thanks the stars it's Sunday. Even if it's not, he doesn't think he's got it in him to go to school. His bones are still screaming profanities at him, and the scars are burning quite a bit. He sighs; getting used to the pain is going to be quite a hassle. But from experience? The pain would eventually subside—at least the scars. The bones are a different story.

He turns his head to look at his sun as she sleeps, no trace of distress left in her face. He smiles as he presses his lips lightly on her forehead, not quite enough to stir her, but enough to make her smile a little in her slumber.

Last night is a bit… hard. She's distressed, so much so that she spent the tail end of it hugging him and crying against his chest until she fell asleep. He has a hunch he's going to regret promising her that, but quickly puts the thoughts away into the furthest corner of his mind. He wants to keep it, and he'll try his damn best to. He wants to live a bit more still.

He lets out a sigh before looking at the bedside alarm. It's only 5 am, so he just discards the idea of waking up early and tries to go back to sleep again.

And it's that exact moment that she wakes up, humming against his chest and hugging him tighter as she stirs to consciousness. She blinks and looks around a little before smiling. "Hey."

"Morning," He says and kisses her forehead before regretting it. He pulls the muscles in his back that pulls at the damn bone. _Again_. "Ow."

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," He reassures, hand absently tracing a circle at the small of her back. She hums contently at that. "Just pulled the wrong muscles."

"What time's this?" She asks, rubbing her eyes a little before glomping him harder. His ribs protest a little. He doesn't care.

"Five in the morning," He murmurs. "I was planning on going back to sleep."

"…Well, it's only just five and you were healed only a few days ago. I don't see the harm," She shrugs, resting her head against his shoulder.

"…Can I ask you a question?" He says quietly, with his eyes glued to the ceiling. When she hums, her finger tracing the scar on his chest through his crumpled shirt, he asks, "I was wondering… why did you suddenly break down like that yesterday? Did something happen?"

She doesn't reply right away, instead focusing her attention on his scars, her breathing soft and steady, her hand a bit reluctant. He notices her fingers being a little… shaky? And even without seeing her face, he could tell that she's pressing her lips together.

He almost gives up on the answer when she says oh-so-softly. "…Do you believe in premonition?"

He frowns slightly. "…A little. Why?"

"After you…" She pauses to take in a deep breath, and holds him just a little tighter. "After you were shot, it scared the hell out of me. I was lost, and I didn't know what to do. And then I… kept having this dream that you were hurt again, and a feeling that it won't be the last time I'll see you like that and I just—"

"Shh," He whispers, stopping her and shifting his body a little so he would be able to take a good look at her face. She's clearly troubled, and to say that it is unfounded would be unfair. He is not… the best when it comes to lives, clearly putting others before his own, and that both makes her proud and upset her greatly. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "I'm just scared. Seeing you like that terrifies me. I don't want to lose anyone else, especially not _you_."

"I know," He murmurs, carding his fingers through her hair carefully. "But it's just a bad dream. I'm still here. I'm still in your arms."

She hums and holds onto him tightly. "Okay."

"I'll do my best to keep the promise."

"Mhm."

"Yukari," He says, burying his face into the crown of her head. "Don't doubt my words now. I might not care about my own life before, but now… I do. And I will do my best to keep that promise, no matter what, okay?"

"…Okay."

As she holds him impossibly closer, he looks up at the ceiling, and the out the window at the still dark sky.

His own doubt about whether or not he wants to live or die is long since gone. And he will do his best to live. For them, and for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this. :D See any red flags, hue hue hue??
> 
> See you next week, guys! Happy New Year to you all!


	16. XIV: Temperance From Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The video stutters and comes to life, the images broken and blurry, but the voices – or rather, a voice – is clear enough to be heard and understood through the statics. And she intently listens—
> 
> —To come to know that, indeed, her father was trying to prevent the Fall, all along.
> 
> "Dad…" She mumbles, her hands clutching his hand tighter, the video long since reaching its end. She's crying to the black screen, to herself, happy that he's still the father she's always known and loved. She wipes away her tears and says with a smile. "Dad, I'm okay. It took me a while, but… it finally reaches me, your message, your love."
> 
> Makoto puts his arm around her, gently reassuring her that he's still here. She scoots a little closer to him as she continues to cry—believing in him has always been right.
> 
> There's something shifting and changing inside as she makes a promise to herself, to her father, that she'll fight against the Dark Hour, like he used to. She'll fight it, and she'll make sure to end it, no matter what. It's her father's wish, and so, she's going to make it hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Press F For my trip home, got work, so here we are!
> 
> At least you folk'll have your chapter!
> 
> To be honest, I'm feeling pretty meh about this one. Not my finest work, not my worst, either. Just right there in the middle. Hope you enjoy it regardless, though!

**_XIV: Temperance From Fear_ **

_Temperance: Middle Path, Patience, Finding Meaning_

_Reversed Temperance: Extremes, Excess, Lack Of Balance_

* * *

Even with him here, her fear of _his_ death still lingers.

Holding him in her arms is the solid proof that _yes_ , he's still alive, he's still _here_ , and he's not going away from her. But then, when night comes, and when the sandman beckons, she would dream of him in the pool of his own blood, drowning, gasping, _dying_ … slowly, painfully, unavoidably. And then when she wakes up, she would seek him out, and he would readily open the door and then she'd hold him in her arms again, as proof that he's still alive.

The foreboding feeling never leaves. It's always right around the corner, shadow looming and creeping up closer, and it'll catch her if she looks away for even a second. It's always there, it never leaves, it doesn't give a damn about anything but crawling its way into her head and driving her up the wall. She wants it gone, but it never does, like a shadow that follows her every step against her wishes.

And here, again, even almost two weeks after his discharged, she finds herself in front of his room, her hands cold and trembling, and her breath shaky. She doesn't want to bother him every night like this, but she doesn't know how else to stop it. She raises her hand to knock at the door, and sure enough, it opens with barely any delay.

Makoto watches her closely, and stops asking any questions after maybe three nights of her coming to his room unannounced. He steps away from the door, and she walks in, a bit unsure. She thinks she might not have much sleep since then, but she just couldn't rest. Sleeping means dreaming, most of the time, and no matter her condition when she goes to bed, the dreams always wind up the same, with him bloodied and broken and gasping and—

"Yukari," He whispers, jolting her out of her own convoluted thoughts. She looks up, and he's smiling, a hand caressing her cheek. _A bandage around his neck_ , she notes, as he pulls her into a hug. She grabs fistfuls of his shirt (he's still in the SEES uniform) and buries her face into his shoulder, shaking, again. She hates this feeling. The powerlessness and the fact that Death is _everywhere_ scares her.

"What happened to your neck?" She asks, fingers tugging lightly at the bandage. He pulls back slightly and leads her towards his bed before sitting her down. He then undoes his bowtie and unbuttons the few uppermost ones.

"Got burnt during the climb," He says, undoing the white fabric and revealing reddened skin. "Kirijou-senpai took care of it, don't worry. Bandaged it up so the friction won't be painful."

"Okay," She mumbles, reaching a hand to touch his throat, carefully avoiding the burn. He smiles at her before pulling her hand away and pressing it against his cheek, his right hand _misshapen_ and just—

"Hey," He brings her out of her musing again, his gaze gentle but firm as he breathes. "You saved my life and my hand, Yukari. The deformity isn't that much, so please, don't blame yourself."

"…If you say so," She nods, curling her fingers slightly and briefly wondering how their positions change from her comforting him to the other way around so quickly like this. She supposes… being near death and witnessing it would do that to people.

She quietly takes off his SEES armband, and then his blazer, throwing them onto his desk. She then puts her hand on his chest and leans in until he's holding her, feeling his heart thudding under her palm, his breath ghosting on her skin, his body heat against her own. She lets out a shaky breath as she holds him loosely, resting her head on his chest (scarred and so, _so_ broken) and pressing her ear against it to hear his heartbeat.

She has no idea what's wrong with her, but she can't shake the dread off. She's afraid, and she feels like, if she lets go now, he'll disappear, he'll go away and never return. She bites her lip as she holds him a bit closer. They haven't entered Tartarus together for a while now, only because of her conditions (she hates being left out like this, and it's no one's fault but _hers_ and hers alone), since he's keeping a keen eye on everyone.

She just wants to stay close. She doesn't want to let go. She wants to get rid of this feeling of dread and powerlessness, and she can't. "…I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me, I just—"

"I know," He whispers into her ear, hand patting the back of her head lightly. She feels him kissing the crown of her head, and hums in respond. It feels nice and warm. "I used to be like this, too."

She looks up. "You do?"

"Mhm," He hums, placing both hands over her cheeks, his thumb brushing just under her eye. "The difference is, I didn't seek help from people, but by cutting myself up. You're stronger than me, to be able to find help from someone else."

She whimpers at the knowledge that _yes_ , he used to do that before. But she hasn't seen or felt a new wound in a while now, so it seems like he's better and maybe even over it. She just pulls back and looks down as he takes both of her hands in his and grips them gingerly. When she looks up, she's met with that gentle smile that never fails to take her breath away from her.

"It's okay to be scared of dreams or feeling of dread that's unexplained. It's similar to anxiety attack, and speaking from experience? You just have to accept the fact that yes, there's a possibility that I'll be injured or worse again."

She whimpers. The grip on her hands tightened.

"But, you have to know that it's just a possibility, not an impending doom. It won't happen just because. I will not allow myself to fall that easily. Okay?"

She nods. She knows their works are hazardous, but she has to accept the fact that it this sense of dread and of approaching doom is _improbable_ , not set in stone. She sighs. "…Okay. Thanks, Makoto."

"Don't mention it," He murmurs with a smile. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

"Yeah."

It'll be okay. Everything's going to be okay.

* * *

The Moonlight Bridge during the Dark Hour is creepy as hell.

She spies Makoto talking with Sanada, Aragaki and Amada. She isn't sure what the contents of their conversations are, but judging from the way he'd look around with his hand tense and ready around his Evoker tells her that he'll looking out for maybe _Strega_ , since their involvements last time signals them that they at least can guess where the SEES would be.

Once whatever conversation he was having is done, he turns to the rest of them and claps his hands once to draw their attentions towards him. Once they all do, he looks up towards the sky and the Shadow hovering above. "Alright, get ready, everyone. In case Strega appears, these three will take charge. The rest of you are with me against the Hanged Man."

They all nod.

As soon as they approach the Hanged Man, Makoto is the first to act, deftly putting the Evoker to his temple and calls, " _Arahabaki!_ "

The claydoll statue appears not against the Hanged Man, but behind them. She whips around and hears the sound of bullets scratching against the barrier erected not a second prior.

Aragaki growls. "I guess the Shadow appearing on the fucking _bridge_ is kind of a dead giveaway, huh."

"It is," The voice calls from afar. As they walk closer, Takaya seems angrier than usual, with Jin being just about the same (however her limited experience of them both might be). The leader, with his right arm but a stump, says, "I thought I killed you."

"You did not," Makoto says nonchalantly, a sly smile on his face as if to provoke the other. It's a new look that makes her a bit uneasy. "Unfortunately for you, I'm still alive. And in quite a bit of pain thanks to you."

"At least yer didn't get away scotch-free," Jin calls, pointing at the Leader with ire. "I'mma kill ya right 'ere and now!"

"Fat chance, you maniacs!" Aragaki bellows. "You all go fight the Hanged Man! The three of us got this. _Chiron!_ "

Rearing and roaring is the armored centaur, majestic yet wild, thundering hooves scalloping against the hard concrete. Yukari wastes maybe a few seconds too long to admire its majesty. Unlike Castor, it seems much more stable, and more powerful.

"Go!" Aragaki snaps them out of their thoughts as Sanada and Amada bring out their own other selves. "We'll take them on!"

"I'll leave them to you!" Makoto says before running towards the Shadow, his Evoker already back to his temple. Before they could've done anything, he calls out another Persona. " _Thor!_ "

She ignores the sounds of the three male members going against Strega and focuses on the Hanged Man before her, its dangling form shifting away from bolts after bolts of lightning. Makoto is barking orders again, and she has to comply.

The three statues are keeping the thing in the air, so the rest of them have to destroy it first. Koromaru charges forward with Cerberus, spouting flames that soon turns to blizzard and roaring blaze again as Kirijou and Junpei join the fray. She keeps an eye out for each of their conditions, her Evoker shaken but ready in her grip.

Then she's brought out of her focus when she hears sounds of maybe… metal clashing? She looks up to see the Hanged Man flying into another Persona she has never seen before and knocking it away. She doesn't think anything much of it until the Persona is sent flying _right into Makoto_.

"Makoto!" She calls out, a bit panicked.

He gives her a thumbs up and fires his Evoker again before saying through the sounds of ice and fire and explosions. "Don't worry about me and keep an eye on them! I'll bring the Hanged Man to you!"

She wants to retort, but bites it back down and nods. As much as she hates it, during battle, when he says he can do it, then he _will_.

When she conjures wind right under the statue and knocking it down, she hears the same sound again, and this time the Shadow is sent tumbling into the ground. Makoto runs through the smoke from the other side, disheveled but still _uninjured_ , as he pulls the trigger again. " _Siegfried!_ "

" _Palladion!_ " Aigis cries. She sees Kirijou and Junpei doing the same, but she's almost out, so she saves herself in case of emergency.

It takes only a few hits of their combined attacks to bring the Shadow down and turn it to dust.

"Aragaki-senpai!" Makoto calls out and runs a bit past her, but soon stops when he sees Chiron, in all its glory, throwing Moros away. "You okay!?"

"We're fine!" The older man says, and the three of them retreat away from the noxious fumes. "Fuck Takaya and fuck his Persona. They just jumped off the fucking _bridge_."

"We'll deal with that later," Makoto says, turning to her and offering her a hand. "You good?"

"Yeah, I'm okay," She says and takes his hand, pulling herself up. "How're you?"

"A bit sore," He admits before looking at everyone, and after a short sigh, says, "Roll call. If you have any injuries, come to me or Yukari."

"So," She says after they start checking and patting themselves. She keeps his hand in hers, just in case, before continuing. "This is it, right? The Dark Hour is finally over?"

"Yeah."

She looks up at his emotionless tone, and sees him frowning slightly. He's looking at where the Shadow fell, and his eyes follow a strange glint of blue that seems to float away into the distance. She tugs at his hand a little. "Makoto? What is it?"

"Mm? Oh, nothing," He says with a thin smile as he takes her towards the group, ignoring Junpei, who's saying something about celebrating. She gives him another glare, and upon seeing that, he only pats her head. "I'm serious, I just thought that it's finally over and we can live normally again."

"…You're not lying, are you?" She inquires.

He shakes his head.

"Fine," She mumbles, before interjecting Junpei, a grin on her face. "I'll take the fatty tuna!"

"I call for Tekkamaki," Makoto adds.

"Dude, not you, too!" Junpei moans.

They laugh.

It's finally over. She can finally get rid of that dread burning in her stomach.

Everything's okay now. They're all fine.

She doesn't have to be afraid anymore.

* * *

Everything goes to hell the next day.

Kirijou's father's shot, Ikutsuki's dead, Aigis is a little _broken_ , and the Dark Hour is not over.

She doesn't know what to do.

And Makoto looks like he's _deep_ in thoughts. He hasn't spoken to anyone since, not to her, not to Aragaki. His brows are always knotted together, and it would take her maybe two or three attempts to get a response out of him, a response that's usually no more than a sentence long.

Kirijou has to disappear to take care of the state at the Kirijou Group, too. But since the Dark Hour and Tartarus still stand, Sanada had suggested that they trained there to get ready for whatever. She agrees, albeit a bit reluctantly. Fighting against something nobody has an idea what is a scary thought; she's fine fighting Shadows, but to what end?

And then, Fuuka gives her the CD of the untampered recordings. She wants to watch it, but… she really wants someone ( _him_ ) to see this with her. But from the way he locks himself up in his room, it seems like he's already has much on his plate. She thinks it might be better to watch it later.

With a dejected sigh, she decides to head down to the kitchen instead. Tugging the CD into her sweater in a dim hope that maybe she'll get to watch it later, she makes her way down the familiar steps and towards the ground floor. Eating might calm her nerve down a little—

Then, she hears someone snarls.

"…uld've told all of you!"

She hears something hitting the floor. Most of the dorm residents are already back in their rooms after the meeting, so who—

"Yuuki, calm do—"

"I _saw_ it coming!" She hears Makoto hisses, and is downstairs enough to see him punching the wall hard. Aragaki winces, and Koromaru whines, ears drooping down. Makoto then rests his forehead against the concrete. "I was fucking right this whole time. Something always felt off – why would Ikutsuki-san knew how to stop the Dark Hour, and if so, why hadn't he tried to do anything about it yet? And then all of the Shadows! It's too damn _easy!_ "

"Look, I and Aki have suspicions like you do," Aragaki says, both arms up. He grabs Makoto carefully and spins him around. "It's not your responsibility to bear. We were all blind-sided."

"Still…" He whispers, his shoulders shaking. "If I had been a bit more cautious, or asked more questions, I might've…"

"I don't think it'll change the outcome anyway," Aragaki sighs, patting his head. "You always do everything wrong in hindsight. Trust me, I know this best."

Makoto takes in a few deep breaths before nodding, hands wiping at his face. "…Okay. Okay. _Fuck_ , and here I thought everything's over and done with."

"Fat chance, kid, with how _lucky_ you are with everything," Aragaki snorts before reaching for a few frozen meals inside the fridge. "Come on, eat up before you go to bed. And you too, Takeba."

She winces at her name. Makoto turns around to look at her for a long moment before smiling a little. His knuckles are a bit red and caked with a little blood —blood that he quickly wipes on his pants. He stands up straight and props himself down onto the chair. The older man just shrugs before heating up the meals with a grunt.

"…Makoto, are you okay?" She asks, pensive. He looks like he's already calmed down, somewhat, but the frown isn't gone yet.

"I'm fine, don't worry," He groans. "I just need some time to cool down."

"At least your tendency to blame every single damn thing on yourself is less, and you're able to control your thoughts more," Aragaki comments, bringing the plates to them and sitting down beside Makoto, a hand on his head, ruffling at his hair. "You've made lots of progress."

"Being near death and having people I love and care about would do that, I guess," He murmurs, still burying his face into his hands. "God, this _sucks_."

"My sentiment exactly," Aragaki mutters. "Now eat up, you two, before the Dark Hour hits. Eating while the sky's fucking green ain't fun, trust me. Been there, done that."

"Okay."

* * *

They go back to their rooms after the meal, with Aragaki throwing them a stink eye when he realized that she isn't ascending to her own floor, but letting it slide regardless.

They settle down in the manner that they always do, with him on the chair, and her hogging his hand to herself, playing it, feeling it. His right hand's… well, its deformity is much more noticeable now that it's in her hands, with her fingers running along its surface, mapping it, shaping it.

"Are you okay now?" She asks quietly after a moment, referring to the outburst she witnessed downstairs.

"I'm alright. Aragaki-senpai did talk some sense into me," He replies, curling his fingers slightly. She hums and pushes them back open. He pauses, frowning, before saying a bit quieter. "I'm… kind of worried of what we should do next."

That makes her stop cold. The fear she's been able to push down is starting to come up again, and she feels physically _sick_ just thinking about it.

She shakes her head a little before tasting the words on her tongue. Then, slowly, she says. "I'm scared, too."

He doesn't say anything, but reassures her with a gentle touch on her fingers and a soft, warm smile on his face. After a moment, he glances towards the desk, and murmurs. "…You brought something here with you. What is it?"

She makes a surprised noise before remembering herself. She isn't sure if she should bring it up now or not, since she could wait for a better time – he had just blamed himself for the mess yesterday, after all. But he's looking at her with concern, with worry, for _her_. She just _knows_ he's not worrying about himself anymore, and she also knows him well enough that he's not going to be satisfied with a deflection.

Yukari sighs before sitting up, pulling at his hand lightly. He tilts his head to the side, confused. With a small smile, she reaches her hand to his cheek, brushing away the stray strands of dark blue before murmuring. "It's… the recording from before, from the incidents ten years ago. Fuuka gave it to me just earlier, and I thought I'd want to have your company when I watch. But you already have so much you need to think about right now, so I'll just—"

"It's okay," He cuts her off, as gentle as he always is, as he pulls her hand away from his cheek and kisses the back of it. "Let's watch it now."

"But—"

"—Yukari, if my hunch is right, this is something worth watching _now_ rather than _later_ ," He says with a smile, stopping her from protesting completely.

"…I'm kinda glad you're not the forceful type. I don't know how I can ever refuse that look of yours," She mumbles. He has a genuine look in his eyes, a gentle smile on his lips. That, and his stern yet kind voice does _not_ make it easy to even consider declining an option.

He laughs, the sound so bright and so soft, before he stands up and pulls out his laptop. After a moment of fidgeting, he walks over, sitting down on the bed beside her, his notebook on his lap. He then glances her way, a hand finding hers yet again, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "I'm ready whenever you are."

She nods.

The video stutters and comes to life, the images broken and blurry, but the voices – or rather, _a voice_ – is clear enough to be heard and understood through the statics. And she intently listens—

—To come to know that, indeed, her father was trying to prevent the Fall, all along.

"Dad…" She mumbles, her hands clutching his hand tighter, the video long since reaching its end. She's crying to the black screen, to herself, _happy_ that he's still the father she's always known and loved. She wipes away her tears and says with a smile. "Dad, I'm okay. It took me a while, but… it finally reaches me, your message, your love."

Makoto puts his arm around her, gently reassuring her that he's still here. She scoots a little closer to him as she continues to cry—believing in him has always been right.

There's something shifting and changing inside as she makes a promise to herself, to her father, that she'll fight against the Dark Hour, like he used to. She'll fight it, and she'll make sure to end it, no matter what. It's her father's wish, and so, she's going to make it hers.

_Thy resolution has reached mine soul._

_I am Thou, Thou art I._

_Leten mine wings bring forth the gale that would guide thee ever forward._

_I am Isis, the storm created from thy will._

She blinks, looking up, the name strange yet oddly familiar to her tongue.

To her surprise, he seems to have sensed this change, as his lips curl up just a bit more, and his free hand finds hers, bringing it to his lips as he kisses it lightly. "…Congratulations, Yukari."

"Idiot," She mumbles, leaning her head against his shoulder and sighing happily.

There's no longer the cloud of doubt in her mind, now. She will see this through, for her father's sake, for her own… and for Makoto's, too.

* * *

After silent moments of her leaning against him, and him soothing her with sweet murmurs and gentle touches, she decides to stay in his room tonight.

The smell and the feel of his bed is just like his kiss — like coffee and moonlight and fallen snow, cold but not biting, gentle, and always welcoming. She snuggles just a little closer, her arm around his torso, her head neatly tugged just under his chin as his breath tickles the crown of her head. The only sound that occupies the room is the soft, constant ticks of his clock, slow and steady, as if to lull her to sleep.

"I'm glad my hunch was right," He murmurs quietly, drawing a small giggle out of her. "And I'm glad you get to see what he's left for you."

"Me too," She murmurs. "Thank you for watching it with me."

"It's my pleasure."

"I'm sure we'll be fine now," She murmurs against his chest as it rises and falls slowly. She could feel the rumbling under her ear as he acknowledges her, so she continues, finger drawing little lines on the scars that are mostly painless, now. "You'll be there with me all the way, right?"

"If I'm able, then yes," He says softly. When she lets out a disapproving growl, he laughs, sending the rumbling right into her brain. "I'll do my best, Yukari. Don't worry."

She hums. She still doesn't like the way he'd seem so roundabout, when it comes to discussing his ultimate survival, which now looks as probable as it could've been. She doesn't understand why he'd be so reserved to promise such thing, but since he already did, then she guesses it's okay.

She then glances up a little. "Are you sure you're alright now? With everything that's been going on?"

He only nods. He looks like he's about to say something, but he suddenly winces and jerks a bit backward, an eye closed, a hand on his face. She's up in an instant, hovering over him, her hand on his before pulling it away from his face. He blinks a few times, his frown deepening.

"Are you alright?" She asks, touching his face lightly before tugging a strand of hair behind his ear.

"I'm fine, just…" He trails off, his eyes narrowing for a bit before he makes a noise that sounds between a strangled cat and a surprised yelp. She tilts her head to the side, and is about to ask more when he says with more reluctance. "…Headache."

"You're totally lying," She accuses. "You paused way too long there."

"I just blacked out for a second," He says, holding up a hand. "I'm honest. Like a migraine or something."

She scowls. "If you lie to me, I swear to god I'm going to _punch_ you."

"Cross my heart," He says, pulling her hand away from his face and kissing her fingers lightly. "Just a little headache. I'll be fine."

She looks at him for a long while. A tiny part of her thinks he's totally lying, but the genuine look in his eyes is saying otherwise. So she sighs a little. "If you say so."

He hums before resting his hand in the crook of her neck again, thumb touching at the edge of her choker, sending pleasant shiver down her spine. She exhales as he whispers. "Let's just go to sleep. We can't do much thinking about it now."

"True," She murmurs. "…Goodnight, Makoto."

"Goodnight. And sweet dreams."

At least her fear is tempered, somewhat. But it's there, in the back of her head, hissing, growling.

She just hopes that everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we have 11 chapters left, and like 70k words to go. Yeah, I might've been a LITTTTTTTLLLLE carried away during writing the last months. :P I relish in angst, people!
> 
> See you in a few, I've gotta rewrite and recheck my other fic first lmfao.


	17. XV: The Devil Is In The Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Death is there, cloak fluttering to the nonexistent wind of the Moonlight Bridge. It's fighting something, sounds of gunfire filling the night. Its eyes hollowed, black blood covering its cloak like spider's webs, the chains clink against each other as it dances across the streets.
> 
> Then smokes. Death is gone, reduced to small puff of blue flame with eyes and mouth that screams and laughs, maddened, too loud and too soft. Someone brings it over to him, and—
> 
> Death.
> 
> Pharos is Death.
> 
> He is a Shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... foreshadowing?
> 
> We're getting closer, bois. And... the sequel actually works as a standalone. Huh.
> 
> Don't let me keep ya! Here you go!

**_XV: The Devil Is In The Details_ **

_Devil: Addiction, Materialism, Playfulness_

_Reversed Devil: Freedom, Release, Restoring Control_

* * *

Mochizuki Ryoji is Pharos.

_They are one and the same._

Makoto sighs and tries his best to calm down. That headache a few days ago was accompanied by some of his broken memories. He saw… something that looked like a Grim Reaper, of sort, and then just some blurs and stuff. He is given only a few days to dwell on it, however.

Ryoji's mysterious blue eyes that shimmer and shine under sunlight, the small beauty mark under his left eye, the way he talks, the feeling of his hands… there are no mistaking it. And the timing, coming here right after the final Shadow is defeated? He _has_ , at the very least, _something_ to do with it.

He has a theory, and he doesn't like where it's going.

"You're spacing out again, Makoto," Ryoji laughs, sounding so much like wind chimes, bright and soft and just so _right_. "Were you even listening?"

"No," He replies almost instantly. "I was thinking for a bit, sorry. What were you talking about?"

"Duh!" Ryoji pouts, but it only lasts for a few seconds before he breaks into that bright smile again. "I was saying, that you seem like such a soft goofball! I wonder why people talk as if you're such a terrible person?"

"Ryoji-kun, _manners_ ," Yukari chides, poking the side of his head roughly. "That's not something you should be asking!"

"It's fine, I don't mind," He says. Truth be told, he _usually_ would, but with Ryoji (Pharos), he doesn't care too much about his bluntness. "They are all or at least mostly rumors. Some of them are outright lies, but like the saying says; rumors are based on a sliver of truth."

"I see," Ryoji hums. "Well! Not like the rumors change anything! You're a pretty interesting guy, and I like you already."

…To be fair, under any normal circumstances, that would've been creepy as hell. But this is Pharos, even if the man himself doesn't remember yet. He sighs again before smiling. "If you say so."

"Hey, hey, are you free today? Take me around town for a bit, will you?" He says, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. He thinks he sees Yukari's face turning from terrified (she _remembers_ that he does _not_ like being touched) to curious, since he doesn't openly react to the touch by Ryoji's _cold_ hands.

He really wants to pry Ryoji's hands away, but having his head rocked back and forth like this really screws with his ability to _think_. "Ow. Ow. Stop. Okay, okay! I'll walk you around—stop, ow!"

"Awesome!" Ryoji laughs again. Makoto wonders what he'd do when he remembers. "You coming too, Yukari-san?"

He sends her a pleading look, because he alone will _not_ be able to contain this hyper ball of happiness. Junpei's planning to take Ryoji to Mandragora in maybe two, three days instead of today. Because of that, _this guy_ is pestering him non-stop!

When she sees his expression, she stifles down a laughter before saying. "Sure. But please don't try to hit on me or I'll _kill_ you."

"I'm not going to hit on Makoto's girl, don't worry," He says with a smile. Makoto thinks his face is a bit hotter at that, and Yukari's looking at him with her cheeks dusted with pink. "Aww, did I just make the two of you blush?"

"Shut _up_ , you tease!" Yukari snarls and hits him hard in the shoulder.

Ryoji, however, does not stop laughing. "Man, you two are cute together. And easy to tease, too."

" _Fuck_ ," Makoto groans. "Now I wish I had just let Aigis booted you out of the window."

"Hey! That's _mean_."

"The offer still stands, Makoto-san," Aigis says, her eyes boring into the back of Ryoji's head. She's, well, _cracking_ her fingers. Ryoji stiffens up. "Do you wish for me to proceed?"

"Hey, whoa! No! I don't wanna die!"

* * *

They get along so well that it actually scares him.

Even without knowing that he himself is Pharos, it looks like he understands Makoto way too much, maybe even better than Aragaki and Yukari, despite the briefness of their friendship (of _Ryoji's_ friendship anyways). He feels easy around the other boy as he care-freely saunters around Paulownia Mall, this time with the two of them alone together.

Yukari's stuck with archery practice, Aragaki wants nothing to do with their bullshits, Yamagishi is nowhere to be found, and Junpei is visiting Yoshino Chidori yet again. He sighs and just resigns to his fate. At least Ryoji is a decent friend, _unless_ there is a lady involved.

"Hey, Makoto?" Ryoji begins as he sits down beside him on the bench. Makoto only hums as he plays with the cup of coffee in his hand, still warm and smells nice. "I've been meaning to ask this for some time now, but… have we met?"

He narrows his eyes a little and watches the other boy closely. His eyes are a bit curious, no more. It doesn't seem like he actually remembers, either. He thinks it's his subconscious coining him into the fact that he used to talk to Makoto all the time during the Dark Hour and more before.

He decides to nod. "Yes."

"Where?"

"I'm not going to tell you."

"Aw, come on!" Ryoji pouts, cold hand on his arm and shaking him again. "Where did we meet?"

He just rolls his eyes and pries the hand off (it's cold like _ice_ ) before taking a sip from his coffee. Ryoji keeps the look on his face for a while longer before chuckling and relaxing back, an arm on Makoto's already hunched shoulder. He gives the other boy a growl, but he isn't fazed in the least.

"It's fine. I'll figure that out somehow," He laughs merrily again. His laughter sounds pretty nice, and it's really calming. "Anyway, you're really kind and gentle, Makoto."

The same thing Pharos said. "What makes you say that? You haven't even known me for that long."

"You're careful around everyone, and it looks like you have quite the eyes for details like people's body languages and expressions, too. You never yell, and you speak really softly. Well, a bit sarcastic, but it's always careful, the way you pick your words."

"…I think your definitions of gentle and kind are different from mine," He comments. "That sounds like me not wanting to upset people, rather."

"There's that," He says with a smile. "But you don't want to hurt anyone, right? I can tell. Or you would _not_ have been _that_ mindful, even to your own close friends like Yukari-san or Junpei."

He looks back down at his now empty cup. He… is he that mindful even around them? He thinks he's a bit _crass_ , even. "But I curse around them a lot."

"Cursing and being insensitive are two different things," Ryoji diffuses, leaning onto him a bit more, making his shoulder groans in protest. He ignores the pain in his scapula. "Trust me. You're kind, and I really like that about you."

He sighs. "Really, if I was a girl, I think that'd be the kind of pick up line I'd fall for right away."

Ryoji splutters before laughing his ass off. "Oh yeah! You're right! That _does_ sound like a pick-up line!"

"No wonder Yukari says that flirtiness is in your nature," He says.

"…What else has Yukari-san been saying about me? I hope it's not something derogatory?" Ryoji says with the same smile, although his eyes are saying that he might be a teensy bit _worried_ about that.

This time, he finds himself grinning at the boy, his cheek resting on his palm. "Something about you going after any girl with a pulse."

" _Ow_ , that's so mean."

"Serves you right."

They share a few laughters (mostly Ryoji's) and continue talking for a few minutes before Ryoji catches something. His sapphire blue eyes suddenly narrow, worry filling them. Before he could ask why, his cold hand has already grabbed onto his own, pulling it forward. The boy frowns upon seeing his misshapen hand with blackened scars.

"…So, you keeping your hands in your pockets and using your left hand all the time is not because you are a lefty," He states, not a question. "…Does this hurt?"

"An astute observation," Makoto murmurs, but lets Ryoji takes a good look at his hand, at his scar. When the other boy gives him a look, he smiles. "It hurts a bit, sometimes. But it mostly doesn't. I can barely feel these two fingers."

"I… see," Ryoji says, putting his hand down. "How did you get that?"

"Got shot, long story," He mutters.

"…Why would someone want to _shoot_ you?"

"Apparently, I pissed off the wrong god when I was a kid and now said god is after my ass," He grumbles. Really, he still thinks that his survival when he was a kid and everything that's happened afterwards is due to a him angering a random god unknowingly.

Ryoji chuckles, but his smile falters a little. "I'm just glad that this is all you've gotten."

"Oh, trust me, it _is_ much worse than this," He says with a sigh. "At least I'm _alive_."

"Life really hates you, huh."

"At least Death seems to like me," He replies, eyes on his hand again as he clenches it. His fingers, like always, are numb. The pain is mostly gone now, but the stiffness remains.

"Makoto, I'm sorry," Ryoji says with a small smile, his eyes so, _so_ kind.

He smiles back. "Don't be. I'm alive. That's what matters most."

* * *

Kyoto is fun.

…At least until they got to the hot spring.

He winces at the idea, and Aragaki, like always, takes notice almost immediately. The boys are all in the locker room together, and he's a bit (a lot) hesitant about baring his scars for them to see. Aragaki is an exception; he's told the man about it, and the man has caught a glimpse of it while he's in the hospital. He thinks Sanada and Junpei did, too, but he isn't too sure. And Ryoji? That guy has _never_ known about them before.

"You can just take a shower," Aragaki says. "Or, you can tell the guys you have the scars."

"…I don't want to bring the mood down," He says, glancing at Sanada—who's looking at them with curiosity. His hands stop. "I'll just—"

"If it's about the scars, we don't mind."

Junpei suddenly says, catching his attention. He turns around, eyes slightly widen. Ryoji is there, too, and he doesn't look at all surprise. Makoto's about to say something when Ryoji adds. "Seriously, we're all friends. Besides, I heard that scars attract women, too, don't they?"

"Must be, with how Yukari-cchi is so smitten over him," Junpei teases, a grin on his face. He feels his face heating up, and he turns to see Aragaki trying and failing to muffle his own laughter.

"God, I both love and hate you people," He mumbles and smiles slightly. These guys are _irreplaceable_ , no matter what anyone says.

"Scars are also a mark of a true warrior," Sanada adds, flexing his arm slightly. "Be proud, Yuuki!"

"Fuck off, you protein-junkie," Aragaki growls as he takes off his beanie, follows by his coat. Why would he not wear the Yukata still puzzles him. Then again, its's probably because of the Persona suppressors which, much to his delight, Aragaki had stopped taking for a while now since Chiron manifested.

"What did I say wrong?"

"You needing _me_ to point that out is wrong on so many fucking levels by itself, man."

"Shinji, that's just _rude_."

"Boo hoo, cry me a river, I don't care."

He finds himself chuckling at their banter as he takes off his coat, trembling fingers untying the robes before taking it off. They stop talking for a bit at that, but he tries his best not to look at them as he wraps a towel around his waist.

Then, Sanada says. "…You've got a _lot_ of scars."

"Tact, Aki!" Aragaki snarls, slapping the man's head hard enough for the boxer to actually yelp.

"Hoo, man," Junpei says, rubbing at his chin, while Ryoji watches with _interest_ , and maybe a bit of terror, arms crossed. "You really do have a multitude of them. Mostly faded, but still."

"You got shot _more than once?_ " Is what Ryoji ends up saying.

Makoto winces before pointing at his knee. "Five times, all in one sitting."

"Ouch."

"Yeah."

They stand there in circle for a while before Ryoji breaks it by dragging him and Junpei along. "Come on, time's a wasting! Let's get to it!"

They end up sitting in a circle behind the large rock and the mini waterfall, with Ryoji and Junpei talking about something he doesn't care enough to listen while he ends up sitting between Sanada and Aragaki, both of whom are more or less _scrutinizing_ him and his scars. After a while, he asks, "…What?"

"I recognize the bullet wounds and the surgical scars, but not…" Sanada trails off, finger awkwardly pointing at the burn on his right chest, and then the rest of his body.

Aragaki is glaring at his friend, but he just smiles. He finds that... talking about them doesn't hurt like it used to. He wonders if it's because his distorted memories are corrected. "I got this when I was a kid, got blasted by a car exploding. I think a few debris hit me. The rest… are from foster care."

Aragaki looks at him with a slight frown. Well, he did tell the man he doesn't remember. He just shrugs.

"I see," Sanada hums. "Thank you for opening up to me, Yuuki."

"Thank _you_ for listening," He says. Then Aragaki pats his head again, ruffling his hair slightly. He doesn't mind it, and it seems like Sanada think it's _cute_ , or… something of that nature. The glint in his eyes is kind of hard to read.

"By the way, Shinji," Sanada says, eyeing the other boy with a grin. "Did you get a bit _beefier?_ "

"Oh _shush_ ," Aragaki mutters. "This guy has been running me into the fucking dirt—"

"—You did that to yourself, not me," He retorts.

Aragaki ignores him. "—So I've gotta stay in the tip-top shape if I'm gonna survive. Not to mention that takin' care of Amada in Tartarus is tiring as hell."

"You keep saying that, but Amada is pretty reliable. And admit it, you think so, too," Sanada says.

"Well, yeah, but he's a _kid_ , and if I'm gonna be stuck looking after his ass, you bet I'm gonna train my ass off to make sure it _works_."

"Aren't you a Tsundere, Aragaki-senpai?" He adds with a, what did he call it? _Shit-eating grin?_

"Shut the fuck up, Yuuki!"

They laugh.

They continue chatting and enjoying the bath for a while longer (his two fingers couldn't even feel the _heat_ of the bath. What the fuck?) before Aragaki decides that they should get back.

And it's this exact moment that the _girls_ walk in.

Holy shit.

* * *

He… is somehow spared from the execution.

Maybe it's because Kirijou saw his scars.

Still.

"That really was an execution, huh," Ryoji comments as the five of them sit in the lobby, dejected and hurt as hell (except for him). "You're so lucky Mitsuru-san took pity on you, Makoto."

He shrugs.

Aragaki groans into his own hands. "Fuck you, Yuuki. You should've asked to be turned into fucking human popsicles like the rest of us!"

"It's not my fault she didn't kill me," He deadpans, an amused smile on his face. "But they did give me an earful, so take solace that I got some punishment out of that, too."

"Stop, just… _stop_ , don't remind me," Sanada groans as he puts a hand to his face. "I'll… make an effort to fucking _forget_ last night."

"Curse you, Kyoto," Junpei moans.

He catches the girls walking past them. Kirijou just treats like they don't exist. Yamagishi gives them an unhappy look. Aigis also ignores them ( _commencing ignore mode),_ while Yukari's giving the others a scornful look. But when she turns to him, she looks half torn between being angry and worried. He just gives her a small smile, and she sighs in relief then scowls at him before following the others outside.

"Should we head out?" He offers after a while, his eyes following the girls until they're out of sight. Kirijou seems a bit… _freer_ , too. Something happened between her and Yukari, for sure, but he thinks it's a good thing. At least she managed to help the older girl when she needs it, while he can't. That's good.

"I mean, why not. No point sitting here bemoaning our already shitty existences anyway," Aragaki says as he stands up. "Race you to the bus, Aki!"

"Hey! Don't get a head start, you _cheat!_ " Sanada growls as he bolts after the already running man. Makoto chuckles lightly; seeing Aragaki being all child-like is new, and kind of refreshing.

"Well then," Ryoji says as he gets to his feet, his hands on his hips. "Shall we?"

* * *

When he finds Yukari during the strolls along the old shops, she quickly snags his hand and leads him away.

He apologizes to Ryoji and Junpei with a raised hand before crashing into her as she suddenly stops. He's about to ask her why, but she's quick to stop him.

"First thing first," She says. "…Why the hell are you guys in that bath?"

"We entered when it's boys' time," He says, honest. He then frowns a little. "Delayed because I have my… _reservations_ with my scars and stuffs… and we got caught up fooling around, so, _yeah_."

"You're such an idiot."

"Don't remind me," He says, squeezing her hand gently before nudging her to keep walking and taking in the view. The red-hued atmosphere from the fallen leaves is something Makoto had never have the chance to appreciate before, and he finds that he actually likes the scenery. "How's Kyoto been for you?"

"Nice," She replies with a hum. "I got to open up to Mitsuru-senpai, and she to me. She's… actually a bit shy, when it comes to _normal_ social interactions."

"You guys are on first name basis now, huh?" He comments. "That's good."

"Kinda weird, right?" She giggles a little as they enter the antique shop, Ryoji and Junpei not too far behind them. He lets her leads him towards the hairpin section, adorn with flower-themed pins, something he knows Yukari likes. "Anyways, I'm just glad Mitsuru-senpai decided not to execute you yesterday."

He chuckles. "True, and Ryoji is still grilling me about that, too."

"I am not!" The boy in question protests while picking several items from the stands and start counting them, a gleeful smile on his face, while Junpei is busy comparing one to the other. Aigis (when the hell did she get there?) is still giving Ryoji a contempt look as he continues. "Man, I wish I have a girlfriend."

He just rolls his eyes and decides to look around a little, Yukari close by, appreciating every little detail in every little handiwork. He smiles thinly before he returns his attention towards the selections of hairpins. He knows Yukari only wears one when she's in a Yukata, but it couldn't have hurt to actually bought one for her from his own pockets, right?

Disappointing as it may be, none of the pins catches his eyes, so he just moves on to the next section, hands in his pockets, humming a tune of _Burn My Dread_ more out of habit than mood. He turns around to the sound of someone approaching, and Ryoji is right there, bright blue eyes warm and kind.

"You finding something for Yukari-san?"

"Kind of," He admits, turning back to the stands of hair clips. "I've barely been giving her anything except my hands to play with."

"…You two are really smitten, huh," Ryoji sighs. "I'm kinda envious."

"Shut up, Ryoji."

"But, hey," The boy says, leaning close into his ear and whispers. "If you want my help picking things, just tell me. I'm gonna be loitering around here for a while, 'kay?"

"Thanks," He hums.

Once Ryoji is gone, he spent some more time walking around until he spots a hairpin adorn with the replica of the _wisteria flower_ on it. _Wisteria;_ meaning _longevity_ and _immortality_. Kind of ironic, when you think about it; nothing escapes death. He knows this better than anyone, but the wisteria is the exact opposite of that – it _defies_ death.

Perfect.

He makes a quick purchase out of that one before they move on to the next, enjoying the ambient and each other's company. Yukari's having a nice time with the girls, especially Kirijou, so he's not going to be interrupting her just yet.

In the end, he winds up fooling around with the boys, Sanada and Aragaki still bickering about every little thing like old friends would do. He sticks around with the other two as they talk about all kinds of topics he's not going to begin to name (they're… really, really _wild_ sometimes).

Once they've gathered around waiting for the bus, he pulls Yukari a bit away. He spies Ryoji giving him a wink, but he ignores it.

Before she could ask anything, he pulls out the small hairpin he's just bought. He smiles. "I thought this thing suits you, so… yeah."

She blushes a little, but smiles. "You don't have to do that, you know."

"I kind of do," He says with a soft chuckle, reaching for her hair and tugging them a bit away before tugging the pin right above her ear. No change to her overall outlook or hairstyle, but complimenting them just a little more. "There."

"Thanks," She hums, fingers touching it a little before taking his hand in hers again. "Wisteria, huh? Do you know what it represents?"

"Yes," He says. "That's why I chose it."

"You're such a romantic, Makoto."

"I tried."

They share a quiet laughter before she lets his hand goes and leads the way back, light pink dusting her cheeks, a subtle, content look in her eyes.

He hopes this happiness lasts.

* * *

Death follows him like a parasite, sapping away everything he and his loved one cherish.

And here he is, standing above Junpei as he cradles Yoshino in his arms, _cold_ and _dead_.

He bites on his lips; he couldn't apologize. Not to Junpei, not to anyone. He can't. None of them foresaw this, and even with his or Yukari's healing abilities, they wouldn't have been able to help him anyways, shot through the poles of the heart like that. It had been an instant death, and only with the ability of _Medea_ could he be saved.

He ends up standing there, numb, watching as Junpei cries his heart out, hugging the body – _the corpse_ – tight to his chest, as if to rouse her awake. He clenches his jaws and his fists tight, but refrains from saying anything. He knows death comes for everyone, and that all lives are precious, but…

He feels warm hand over his, and he glances sideways to see Yukari, a worried look on her face. He just gives her the best smile he could've mustered before he returns his attention to his friend as he cries out everything inside. He could feel – he could _hear_ – it overlapping with his memories from long, long ago, and the feeling of dread and despair and fear from back then, when he lost _everything_ is back.

But this time, he's stronger. He accepts it, and he lets the feeling washes over him. He tightens his hand around hers slightly, but keeps his breath steady. He will allow himself to feel all of it, but this time, it won't distort or break him, and he won't let it chain him down. Not again.

He lets her hand goes and kneels down beside Junpei, placing a careful hand on his shoulder. The boy turns to him with eyes filled to the brim with tears, but says nothing. He looks the other in the eyes and murmurs. "We should go. Do you want me to help…?"

"…It's okay, I can do it by myself," He murmurs. Makoto could detect the underlying feelings as clear as day; _I have to do this_.

"Alright," He says, standing up, then offering Junpei a hand. "I'm here."

"You're always so reliable, man," Junpei says with a broken laughter before taking his hand, pulling himself and the body up. He then turns back to Yoshino, kissing her forehead before holding her up bridal style, his smile teary. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," He whispers. "Let's go."

When they start walking back, he sees Aragaki approaching him with a thoughtful look. Before he could say anything, the large, rough hand is on his head, ruffling his hair slightly. "You've gotten stronger, Yuuki. Congrats."

"…Thanks," He murmurs, sighing to himself before shaking his head. "But… I don't think I'll ever get used to the feeling of seeing someone die right before my eyes, ever."

"No one would be able to," Aragaki hums. "You did good, kid. You did good."

* * *

Both he and Yukari agree that they want to be alone, at least for tonight.

He sighs and drops everything on the table, not bothering to change out of his cloth as he drops onto the bed, his thoughts reeling a little. Controlling them is much easier, thanks to Pharos (Ryoji), but it's still _painful_ to experience them. He just sits up yet again, a hand over his face.

He has a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he's missing something. A detail that's important, that his mind seems to forget. He's not going to be sleeping tonight, that's for sure, so he might as well spend this time thinking about it.

Ryoji is Pharos, but… who _is_ he? Or rather, _what?_

He's… never seen Pharos before coming to Port Island, and when he does, his appearances were all during the Dark Hour, and he seems to know a lot regarding Shadows and Full Moon. Maybe he has something to do with it? Is he perhaps a Shadow—?

As soon as that thought crosses his mind, headache assaults him. He doubles down, hands gripping his head, eyes shut tight as if to will the pain away.

Then, flashes of memories that start to tread themselves together like strands of fate, one by one, his memories are clearer, the images are unmistakable—

_Death is there, cloak fluttering to the nonexistent wind of the Moonlight Bridge. It's fighting something, sounds of gunfire filling the night. Its eyes hollowed, black blood covering its cloak like spider's webs, the chains clink against each other as it dances across the streets._

_Then smokes. Death is gone, reduced to small puff of blue flame with eyes and mouth that screams and laughs, maddened, too loud and too soft. Someone brings it over to him, and—_

Death.

Pharos is _Death_.

He _is_ a Shadow.

He pants, catching his breath as his mind clears further. He blinks away the black spots as he gets up shakily. A feeling is boiling in the pit of his stomach, and he just instinctively _knows_ where he needs to go.

He half-runs out of the dorm. Everyone has long since go back to sleep, so he's alone. He makes his way down the familiar road, his eyes on the Moonlight Bridge, still bustling with cars, but not with people.

As he approaches, he finally sees the yellow scarf, and those blue eyes, now with deep sorrow in them. He stops a few meters away and says, barely audible against the wind.

"Ryoji."

"Makoto," The other greets with a rueful smile as he looks up towards the sky. "So… you remembered."

"Yeah," He says, walking closer until they're only a step apart. He then turns to look at the half-moon above.

"The memories aren't completed yet, though," Ryoji hums. "Did you piece it all together somehow?"

"Yeah," He answers. "I remember Death, and the other version of you."

"What was my name, when you first met me?"

"Pharos."

"…Weird name, huh?"

He remains silent at that, unsure of what to do next. He still doesn't know what Ryoji being a Shadow, being _Death_ , means, and he isn't sure that he wants to find out. He frowns a little.

"What will you do?"

"I don't know," Ryoji says, sincere. "My memories are still incomplete. But they will be whole again when the Full Moon comes, I think."

"I… see," He murmurs.

"Are you going to tell them?"

"I don't know," Makoto confesses. The sense of fear and dread is in him, deeply buried into his very soul, and he isn't sure what he wants to do. What he is _supposed_ to do.

"I guess," Ryoji begins. "…We'll have to wait until then, huh?"

"Maybe," He says. "Ryoji… are you an enemy?"

"I don't know."

He remembers Ikutsuki's maddened rambling, his tale of the almighty _Death_ who would bring about the Fall, the end of everything.

He has a hunch where this is going to lead.

And he hopes that his hunch doesn't come true.

(But he knows that it _will_ ).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All in all, I'm pretty pleased with this one. You can see disaster from way over here, lol.
> 
> The next one is the Tower. I think you all can guess what that means -- the Tower means disaster in the Arcana, after all.
> 
> See you in a few days! We're nearly there, folks!


	18. XVI: The Crumbling Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Makoto—" Yukari begins, reaching a hand out. He stops her with a look, and that's when she realizes one thing that she wishes she hadn't. "…Is this what you've not been telling us?"
> 
> "…Yes," He murmurs. "The memories were incomplete, and I wasn't sure. I only know that he's a Shadow, but not his purpose, so…"
> 
> "You know about this?" Junpei snarls, angry, mimicking her thoughts exactly. Why would Makoto lie about something like this? About an enemy? Before she could say anything, her childhood friend is already stomping his way to Makoto, fist raised. "Dude, what the hell!?"
> 
> "Stop, stop, all of you!" Mitsuru snaps, making Junpei freezes in his track. The boy clicks his tongue and forces himself away from the two. "Just… Yuuki, take him to rest. I and Yamagishi will deal with Aigis, and don't any of you dare do anything to anyone until he's awake. Then, we'll talk."
> 
> The irritability hangs heavy over them, and she isn't sure what she's supposed to even think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! The tower, the disaster!
> 
> Don't let me keep you!

**_XVI: The Crumbling Tower_ **

_Tower: Sudden Upheaval, Broken Pride, Disaster_

_Reversed Tower: Disaster Avoided, Delaying the Inevitable, Fear of Suffering, Resisting Change_

* * *

Ryoji looks sad all the time, and Makoto looks deeply troubled.

She wonders what happened.

They still hang out just the same, but the sorrow is _palpable_ in the air. Ryoji isn't his usual, flirty self anymore, and he looks like he wants to cry all the time. His usually unflappable smile is no more, and his words are careful, distant, _cold_.

"Makoto?" She asks, taking the chopsticks from him like she always does as he puts the bento box on the table. The scowl is permanent on his face now, and the look in his eyes is deeply troubling. When he looks up, she continues. "Are you and Ryoji-kun in a fight or something? You two look… off."

"No," He denies with a shake of his head as he picks at a fried chicken and nibbles at it. He doesn't seem to enjoy the food like he usually would. "Just… it's hard to explain."

"Try me."

"No," He denies again, the frown deepening further.

"…Makoto."

He sighs, putting the chopsticks down and resting his forehead against his joint hands, his breath is slow and shaky. She frowns, but pushes no further. He looks so distressed that it scares her.

He looks at the table in silence for a solid minute before he murmurs. "I'm not sure. It's just a hunch, but… I think we're not going to be _friends_ for much longer."

She scowls. "What do you mean by that?"

"As I said, it's a hunch."

She's not going to be getting anything more out of him. She hates this look of sadness on _both_ of them, as she wishes she'd be able to help just a little more. "Can I help with anything at all?"

"I don't think so," He murmurs, hand grabbing the chopsticks again. "…Well, maybe you can. Just… help me keep my mind off things?"

"How?"

"I dunno," He murmur, unsure. She knows he's still reluctant in asking for what he wants, but this is a bit different. He genuinely does _not_ know what he needs, and this is much worse than not voicing out one. "Can you think of something?"

"…I'll try my best," She finally says, glancing at Ryoji, who's looking at them with a sad smile. Makoto's eyes follow hers, and they exchange something with their expressions alone before the scarfed boy walks out of the room, leaving the two of them in solace.

"Thank you," He mutters before going back to the food, his eyes as gentle and soft as ever.

"You're welcome."

* * *

"What happened between Yuuki and Ryoji?"

Mitsuru asks as the rest of the girls hang out in the lounge. Sanada, Aragaki, and Makoto are out doing their usual shenanigans (it's funny how Sanada asked to be a part of it), while Junpei and Amada take Koromaru out for a walk.

She crosses her arms and makes a face. "He didn't tell me much. Said it's a hunch that they're not going to be friends for much longer."

Aigis states flatly. "That is good."

"No, it isn't," She interrupts. "They're good friends. Hell, I think Ryoji-kun is the closest to Makoto, counting out Aragaki-senpai, of course."

"Speaking of a certain Shinjirou, I think Yuuki's a good influence on him," Mitsuru says with a smile, her eyes softening slightly. "I've not seen the man that lively for quite some time now. It's good to know there's at least a person out there who could bring the kind side out of him."

"I know, right?" She laughs. After a moment of quiet laughter and light-heartedness, however, her smile falters. "But I'm worried. Makoto looks so troubled, and he himself doesn't seem to even _know_ what to do with that."

"I see," Mitsuru hums. "But he's out with those two idiots now, so I think he'll be alright, at least for a moment or two."

"Why are you calling them _idiots_ , Mitsuru-senpai?" Fuuka asks, a bit curious.

To be fair, Yukari thinks she already knows why, but refrains from saying so.

"Oh… trust me, Yamagishi, you wouldn't want to know that," Mitsuru hums, a fond smile on her lips as he sips on the tea. "But they're both like Yuuki's slightly dysfunctional brothers, at this point. It is a good thing… I think?"

"You _think?_ "

"I hope."

She giggles. "So there are _things_ you can't be certain of too, huh, Senpai?"

"Of course," The heiress says with a small smile. She takes another sip before looking out the window. "Well, I hope they'd be able to at least pry something out of Yuuki, although I doubt it. He's open only to a few people, and being _open_ is already a bit of a stretch."

Yukari sighs at the truth Mitsuru is saying. Makoto listens to people's problems and helps them with that a lot, but when it comes to himself, he rarely says anything. This time is no different. Or rather, the scale of the problem is bigger than before, and he's refusing to say anything to anyone.

As much as it pains her (makes her jealous), if there is going to be a person who could make him talk, it would be Aragaki. The way he confides to the two of them is different; to her, it's his fear, and to him, it's _everything._

"Has he told you anything?" Yukari asks.

"No," Mitsuru shakes her head. "I, sadly, am not on the list of his closet confidants. That would be you and Shinjirou."

"I see. Sad, huh."

"Even though I did confide a lot to him," Mitsuru says with a chuckle. "It doesn't seem like we're close enough. But then again, the things he had been through isn't something he could just tell _anyone_."

"True enough," Yukari sighs. "Well, I guess there's no point thinking about that now. How have you been holding up, Senpai?"

"I'm alright, thank you for your concern," She says with a hum. "Thanks to you and Yamagishi, I'm okay now."

"Oh, it's no problem," Fuuka says with a smile.

The air is light, and she likes it.

She just hopes nothing bad happens.

* * *

Makoto returns from his little outing around an hour before the Dark Hour strikes, with Aragaki looking half… _drunk?_ And Sanada is speaking nonsense, at that point.

"…What were you guys doing?"

"Ended up in Club Escapade," Makoto replies, his eyes glinting with mischief as he helps Sanada walks as straight as he could. "As it turns out, I'm quite the heavyweight."

"Why are they even serving you?" Yukari asks.

"Me, of course," Aragaki mutters. "Fuck, to think that _I_ would lose a bet with a fucking _kid._ "

"I'm only a year younger than you, so I'm less a _kid_ and more like a _teenager_ , Senpai," He says, a little teasing, as they walk to the lounge. Aragaki promptly sits himself down at Mitsuru's left, while Sanada occupies the vacant spot on her right.

Makoto walks over to her and sits beside her, their knees touching. He leans his head back on the couch as he grabs his face, letting out a long suffering groan.

"…Are you okay?"

"I'm tipsy, that one's drunk, that one's right at the edge," He says, pointing at Sanada and Aragaki in quick succession. She hears Sanada groans, while Aragaki just grunts, but says nothing.

"You do realize there is school tomorrow, yes?" The heiress says, half-amused, half chiding.

"Yes," The three boys say simultaneously.

"But then again, I ain't planning on going tomorrow anyway, so who cares," Aragaki just shrugs, head in hand.

Mitsuru sighs. "Unbelievable."

"Well, I'm heading to bed," Makoto says as he gets up, stumbling a little. He yawns before stretching his arms up over his head. "See you tomorrow."

A chorus of good nights and byes follow him, and after he's gone, Aragaki glances before sitting up straight, his face serious. She spies Sanada being much less dramatic about his drunkenness, too.

"I'm still drunk, kinda," Sanada says first. "But not as much as Yuuki thinks."

"He's not telling me nothin'," Aragaki growls. "Kid zips up like the world's gonna end if he spills."

"Good _god_ , not again," She moans into her hand. And here she thought he's already over his tendency to carry his burdens on his own, too. "I don't want to force him to say things, but I'm worried. He looks so down lately. Ryoji-kun, too."

Mitsuru sighs. "I guess I'll have to trust him not to destroy himself."

"I think we can be sure of that, at least," Aragaki says as he slings his arms onto the backrest. "Kid says something's bugging him, but I probe around. No signs of panic attacks or something like that. It looks like he's _worried_ more than he's _terrified_."

She isn't sure if she should be happy he's worrying about something so much that he wouldn't tell a soul or not, but at least it's better than him being afraid of something, she guesses?

"That's good, at least," Mitsuru hums. Then she looks over to Sanada. "Akihiko, are you really… hm, _alright?_ "

"No, I'm going to have hangover tomorrow, that's for sure," The boxer grumbles. "These two drink like it's _water_ and not _vodka_."

"It's you who's the lightweight 'round here, Aki. Suck it up and admit that you _lost_."

"Shut the hell up, Shinji!"

She laughs a little at their bickering, her worries briefly forgotten.

* * *

A few days later, she finally gets enough time and privacy to catch him in his room.

He looks a bit surprised, but lets her in regardless, his gaze as soft and warm as ever, but there's still a bit of confusion in it. He doesn't say anything to her, though, and opts to stay silent as she makes herself at home (it kind of already is, to be fair), seating herself on his bed and patting the empty spot right beside her.

He hums and walks over, sitting down, his weight making the mattress dips a little. She takes his hand in hers, like always, and unfastens the strap of his watch before she starts tracing her fingers on his skin and his scars. He seems content, a small smile on his face, but that look of misery remains in his gray eyes.

"Can you elaborate?" She decides to say. The look on his face tells her that, _yes_ , he knows exactly what she's talking about. Feeling like Ryoji and him are not going to be friends for much longer is ominous, at the very least. She doesn't want to think about the worst case scenario.

He frowns a little, not saying a word as he curls his fingers over her hand. After a minute, he murmurs. "It's… I really don't know if I should say this at all."

She tilts her head. "How so?"

"Ryoji's a friend that's important to me. Very much so," He begins slowly, each words heavy. She feels him tensing up under her fingertips, and decides to knead the knots in his muscles away a little. "But… something feels off. I can only tell that much."

His contemplative look and the uneasiness are clear as day, and yet, there's something else he's still not saying. It's like he _can't_ , rather than doesn't want to, and she feels like it's best to leave it there. Instead, she cups his cheek with her hand and turns him to her as she offers him the best smile she could've mustered at the moment.

"If you can't say it, then it's alright. Just know that I'll always be here to listen to you, okay?"

He sighs before smiling at her, a hand over her own as he presses it firmer against his cheek. "Thank you, Yukari."

"So," She begins anew, trying to lighten up the mood somehow. "I didn't know you _drink_."

He winces a little. "It never came up before, so I don't see the need to bring it up."

"Well, here's your chance," She says, nudging his rib lightly and carefully. His scars are not as sensitive now, but it'd hurt if she hits them too hard. "Just… when and why?"

"I think… it was after I tried to push you away," He murmurs, finger scratching his cheek, embarrassed. "Walking back from therapy gave me too much time to think, so I suggested straying for a bit. Aragaki-senpai's against the idea at first, but…"

"…He bit the bait," She says, borrowing Sanada's words.

"I wouldn't say he took the bait," Makoto says with a small smile. "More like he saw the opportunity to help me wind down as much as I can… it started out innocently enough. Iced drinks, non-alcohol. And it just… yeah, next I know we were already drinking shots after shots just for the hell of it."

She sighs. "You're _unbelievable_."

"…Sorry?"

"Don't apologize if you're not even _sorry_ ," She huffs slightly. "Seriously, you can be so random at times, and it's both endearing and frustrating."

He laughs quietly, his eyes warm. "I'll try not to keep secrets from you again, okay?"

"Fine," She mumbles.

They end up cuddling on the bed after that, with his hand absently carding through her hair while she traces careful fingers on his chest through his slightly crumbled shirt. After maybe a moment, he says softly, "Yukari?"

"Hm?"

He smiles as he presses a careful kiss on her forehead. "I love you."

She feels herself flushing a little at that. "And I you."

* * *

It all starts with the blaring of the alarm on the Full Moon night.

Fuuka detects a Shadow, larger than the previous twelves combined, with Aigis _and_ Makoto nowhere to be found.

She has to resist the urge to run ahead of the others towards where Fuuka identified the Shadow — towards the Bridge, the very place it all began. She couldn't see much, from the distance, but she could _hear_ something akin to an explosion going off, and then trails of smoke follow.

"What the fuck did Yuuki get himself into this time!?" Aragaki snarls, the axe weightless in his grip, his Evoker clutched tight in his right hand. "I swear to god, that _kid_ just has the _shittiest_ luck out of all of us!"

"I'm beginning to think he's a disaster magnet," She manages through her teeth, her fingers colder than the steel of her bow. They're at the main street now, not too soon they'll have a view of the Bridge, and maybe, _just maybe_ , they'll see what's happening.

And when they finally reach it, she sees…

"Ryoji-kun…? Makoto?"

The two boys turn towards them, Ryoji's gaze sorrowful and cold, while Makoto's eyes are _unreadable_ , even to her. None of them say a word, but Makoto points at something smoking not too far away from him, and it takes her a few seconds to make out the form of a human—

"Aigis!?" Mitsuru cries as they rush forward. She's spluttering out smokes from her joints, the rotors in place of her ears red hot, and her eyes – her _optic lens_ – are unfocused, at best. The heiress kneels down beside the robot as she tries to say something, but then she just _stops_.

"What the hell's going on?" Junpei asks, looking between Makoto and Ryoji in confusion. "…How are you here, Ryoji? And… Makoto? What—?"

"I'm sorry about this, Makoto," Ryoji seems to ignore them as he smiles, forlorn, his eyes and his lips unmatched. Makoto doesn't say anything as the scarfed boy staggers a bit closer. "I'm so sorry."

"…You didn't choose this, you just _are_ ," She hears him say. She couldn't really see his face, but his voice is low, soft, reluctant, and _pained_. The Evoker in his hand is halfway off of his grip already, and it's only because of reflex, she thinks, that he's tightening it before holstering the thing away. "And… I'm sorry, too, you know…"

"For what?" Ryoji asks, tilting his head slightly.

"Calling you a parasite," Makoto says, confusing Yukari even more. She tries to walk closer to them, but Makoto puts up a hand to stop her, without turning her way. She exchanges a confused (scared) look with Aragaki, who just scowls, but doesn't take a step closer. "It's not like you're the Grim Reaper or anything."

"Well, I _do_ bring Death, so… I don't really mind," He says with a small, broken laughter that fills the silence with _despair_. "I'm sorry, for all the terrible things I caused you."

She couldn't see his expression well, but he's balling his hands into fists, nails digging deep, drawing out drops of _blood_ that slowly make their way down his hands and into the ground. She then sees Mitsuru looking briefly at Sanada, stopping him from whatever he's trying to do.

Then, Mitsuru speaks up. "What happened? What's the meaning of this?"

This time, he turns towards them, his gray eyes pained and nearly lost, a smile that doesn't belong on his face. He glances at Ryoji, who's looking down at the ground, his legs slightly shaken, before looking back at them. "…He's a Shadow."

"He _what?_ " Mitsuru hisses.

"Or rather, the _completed_ form of the Twelve Shadows we defeated," He continues before turning back again, his steps careful as he walks closer towards Ryoji, who looks like he wants to cry and _disappear_ from the world forever. "The Appriser of Death."

"Death, as in… what Ikutsuki said? The almighty Death?" Aragaki says, readying his axe. "If so, then step back, Yuuki! We need to—"

"We can't," Makoto says with authority and finality that makes her shiver. Ryoji offers all of them a brief look that says, _he's speaking the truth_. He stops when he's but a step away from the… _Shadow_ , when he places a careful hand on his shoulder. "…Ryoji."

"I'm the Appriser," The boy says, his voice hoarse, pained, soft. She isn't sure what she could make of it, just that it sounds like she's listening to the story of the end of the world. "The guide who would call fourth the maternal being that would awaken and be drawn to me in order to—"

"Ryoji," Makoto cuts him off, his voice tense. "You have to rest first. I'll tell them what I know."

"But I—" The boy shakes his head before his knees seem to give out under him, and before long he's already _unconscious_ in Makoto's arms. The Leader carefully lowers him to the ground, checking his pulse, touching his forehead.

"Yuuki, step aside," Aragaki growls. "If you can't kill him, I will."

" _We_ can't," He stresses, his face neutral – _too passive_ – as he keeps his eyes on his close friend, his lips pursed into a tense line. "You saw what happened to Aigis. We can't take him on, not with how we are now."

She turns towards the android again, battered and broken, and feels the _terror_ and the dread that's always been around her forever resurfacing again. She looks around, at the confused, uneasy expressions on all of their faces, and then to Makoto, whose expression are not readable anymore, and whose eyes are cold _like ice_.

"He's the Shadow born inside the Kirijou research facility, ten years ago," He begins, refusing to look any of them in the eyes. "The unification was interrupted, and he awoke in an incomplete state. And then, he fought with Aigis on this very Bridge."

His jaws are tense as he stops, eyes closed, shoulders hunched.

"Ten years ago…?" Amada says. "Isn't that… when the Dark hour began?"

"It is," Mitsuru says, one hand grabbing onto Sanada's sleeve to stop him from advancing, her eyes glaring at Aragaki to stop him as his grip on the axe become impossibly tight. "What happened next, Yuuki?"

"Aigis couldn't kill him, and she's about to malfunction, so… she sealed him away within a child who happened to be nearby."

This bridge, ten years ago, a child—

"…You?" Yukari whispers, legs quivering.

He looks at her with a melancholic smile as he stands up. His hands are shaking, she realizes, and he nods once before he murmurs. " _Yes_."

They could say _nothing_.

After the silence that seems to stretch into an eternity, Makoto looks down at the sleeping _Death_ , before he looks up at Junpei. It looks like he wants to say something more, but couldn't bring himself to. In the end, he just kneels back down, slinging Ryoji's arm over his own shoulders, and sighs. "You should… take Aigis to the lab to fix her up. There's a spare room in the dorm, right?"

"You're not seriously considering harboring him, a _Shadow_ , in there!" Aragaki snaps. "He's unconscious right now! We can kill him!"

"We _can't_ , Senpai," Makoto grits out. "I'm sorry, but we can't. He's the only one who knows what's happening. We _need_ him to tell us what is this maternal being first before we can do anything about it."

Aragaki chews on his own tongue at that before he spits, hand punching the nonfunctioning bus right next to him. " _Goddamnit!_ "

"Yuuki's right," Sadana says, frowning. "And even if we can… he's still our friend. We have to listen to what he has to say first."

"I know that," Aragaki growls. "I _fucking_ know that! _Fuck!_ "

"Makoto—" Yukari begins, reaching a hand out. He stops her with a look, and that's when she realizes one thing that she wishes she hadn't. "…Is this what you've not been telling us?"

"…Yes," He murmurs. "The memories were incomplete, and I wasn't sure. I only know that he's a Shadow, but not his purpose, so…"

"You _know_ about this?" Junpei snarls, angry, mimicking her thoughts exactly. Why would Makoto lie about something like _this?_ About an _enemy?_ Before she could say anything, her childhood friend is already stomping his way to Makoto, fist raised. "Dude, what the _hell!?_ "

"Stop, _stop_ , all of you!" Mitsuru snaps, making Junpei freezes in his track. The boy clicks his tongue and forces himself away from the two. "Just… Yuuki, take him to rest. I and Yamagishi will deal with Aigis, and don't any of you dare do anything to _anyone_ until _he's_ awake. Then, we'll talk."

The irritability hangs heavy over them, and she isn't sure what she's supposed to even _think_.

Makoto keeps the fact that Ryoji is a Shadow a _secret_ from the SEES; a secret that could've _killed_ someone.

She isn't sure if she could still trust him at all afterwards.

And the thought _scares_ her.

* * *

He's not in his room.

She sighs after opening the door to find his bed empty. She has an inkling of where he might've gone to, but she isn't sure if she should be talking to him at all or not.

Ryoji is their friend, but he's also a Shadow… and Shadows are humanity's enemies. Yukari wishes things were simpler; that killing him would just end the conflict. But after what the two of them told the SEES, about the maternal being, they _have_ to listen to whatever outlandish tales Ryoji has. With Ikutsuki gone, they have absolutely no clue what to do next, so any information is valuable, not to mention that, unlike Aragaki, some of them are… pretty close with Ryoji. Killing him's not going to be easy.

Not to mention that something happened that put Aigis out of commission. She thinks… no, she isn't even sure if Makoto would've killed him or not if Ryoji's not protected by whatever incomprehensible force there is that defended him against someone like Aigis, against something like Palladion at full throttle. She shivers at the mere thought; how powerful does he need to be, to repel someone like the android without so much as a _scratch_?

And Makoto—the kind, the always gentle Makoto, lying about something absolutely _unforgivable_. She couldn't bear to look at him right now, and she isn't even sure if she could look at him the same after. Such secrecy is _unthinkable_. Even if Ryoji's a friend, if he _knows_ beforehand that he's a Shadow, he should have told someone something!

She sighs, shaking her head a little. Thinking in circles won't do; she'll just have to ask him directly.

She finds herself in front of the used-to-be vacant room on the second floor. She could hear footsteps from the inside, and it isn't hard to guess _whose_. Steeling herself, she doesn't knock and opens the door slowly, the creaking of the woods drawing the occupant's attention towards her.

He looks… conflicted, _guilty_ , and reluctant. He's smiling, but it's far cry from an actual smile; it's just a ghost of one, at best, scraps of nothing more than pain and despair in equal measure. He turns his eyes towards Ryoji, sleeping, tossing and turning ever so slightly in his nightmarish stupor. She closes the door behinds her and stands there, lips pursed.

He's the first to start the conversation. "I'd understand if you don't forgive me. I'm fine with it."

"Just… _why?_ " She asks, her voice cracking at the end. "Why did you lie? This is something you should've told us! All of us! It could've—"

"I know," He cuts her off, his face turning away from her, refusing to let her see. His voice is controlled, too, and a bit exhausted. He lowers his head into his knuckles and heaves out a shaky, unsure breath. His whispers are hoarse, at best, barely able to pierce through the sound of rustling leaves from outside. "I know. I'll face the consequences in due time, but… just let me do what I have to, for now."

"Makoto, this _isn't_ forgivable, you know," She hisses, walking a bit closer, but he stops her with a raised hand, still not looking her way. She scowls. "Even after stopping you, Mitsuru-senpai thinks you'll have to answer _all of us_ why you did what you did."

"I know," He murmurs. "Every action _and_ inaction have consequences. I didn't mean to endanger any of you, but…"

"But what?"

He sighs and forces himself to sit up straight. "It's hard to explain, but he _saved_ me, more than once. I owe him my life, so I thought… maybe, just maybe, him being a Shadow isn't—"

"—A bad thing?" She finishes, voice raw. "Makoto, how is being a Shadow _not_ a bad thing? You saw, you _experienced_ , what they did! So—"

"He _saved_ me," Makoto grits out, his voice broken like shattered glasses scattering across the floor. The distance between them is growing unbearably wide, and she isn't sure if she still wants to mend it or not. His actions made no senses, and he's putting an _enemy_ above _all of them_.

"Makoto, that—"

"—Doesn't excuse him, I know," He says, half _begging_ her. She stops. His voice, his posture, is _terrifying_ and heartbreaking to her; the way he seems so conflicted about all of this… it's hard to stomach. Then he continues, and she realizes that he's _crying_. " _Please_ , just… at least, for tonight, just don't ask questions."

"…Fine," She relents, sighing, before twisting the knob and opening the door. "You better have satisfying answers for us later, Makoto… or we're through."

"Okay," He murmurs. "…Okay."

She doesn't want to admit it, but right now?

Right now, she can't trust him. Not after what he'd just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... we're nearly there, folk. The main story ends at, you guess it, XXI -- and there are two of that, each from Yukari's and Makoto's perspective, respectively. The rest? More post-canon angst, of course, because why not!
> 
> And that sequel, I might not post it as a sequel, but as a separate work. I've.... already put like 25k words into that one already? Somehow?????????? Not to mention that it smells a lot of AkeShu, and I'm dying XD
> 
> Anyways, next three chapters are pretty slow, but it builds up to the finale. So bear with me! See you in a few days again XD


	19. XVII: The Fallen Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "…I'm sorry," He murmurs. "But… I just don't want you to suffer."
> 
> "I know," He says, looking at the boy straight in his sapphire blue eyes, then musters up the best smile he could've created. "But you've told me this before, right? Life is painful. It's sorrowful and kind. And Life… is a precious gift, to live is to suffer, to learn, to enjoy. Without pain, there can be no happiness. You tell me this yourself."
> 
> Ryoji laughs quietly. "I did, huh? But… yes, I guess so."
> 
> "I can't forget," Makoto shakes his head, gripping Ryoji's hand tightly. It's so cold, he notes. But he finds that he doesn't mind it. "If I do, my friendships, my love, will be nothing more than empty shells of what they are now. I can't allow myself to forget about anything, or any of them. Even if it hurts, I want to remember, to live."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Yeah, this is absolutely not going to go downhill at all lol!
> 
> XD Have fun with this one, guys!

**_XVII: The Fallen Star_ **

_Star: Hope, Faith, Rejuvenation_

_Reversed Star: Hopelessness, Despair, Negativity, Lack of Faith_

* * *

He decides to skip school.

He doesn't care if he's going to be scolded or whatever later, he just couldn't give two fucks about it right now. All he could focus on is Ryoji, sleeping right here and now. Ryoji (Pharos) ( _Death_ ), who's _saved_ him, both physically and mentally, from the Shadows, and from _himself_ , from his own pit of despair. If he wasn't there, he would've let himself go and die after being shot. He would've given up on living a long, _long_ time ago. And he wouldn't have gotten to know _life_ like he is now.

Ryoji, who's a Shadow, sealed within him for ten long years, drawing pain and suffering to him in equal measures without the man himself realizing it. Ryoji, who's the guide that would draw in Nyx, the mother of the night, the almighty _Death_ , who would bring forth the Fall.

He wonders; if he'd let himself be drowned by that kid a few years back, could all of this have been prevented? Would the rest of the world be spared from fate inevitable? If he had died back then, would the Shadows lose their purposes? Or would they join together just to create a new Appriser to fill Ryoji's role?

He hears the door opening, but doesn't turn around. Whoever opens the door doesn't do a damn thing, either, so he just sits there in silence. He frowns, hands clasped together, his mind a goddamn mess and his heart torn between believing in this… in _his_ other self, his _Thanatos_ , his _Death_ , or considering him an enemy and just chokes the life out of him right now. He knows he might be able to do it, since it's right outside of the Dark Hour. But Ryoji did warn him that killing him now would make things uncorrectable, irreversible. He can't allow that, not yet.

"…Yuuki," The voice calls, and he turns to see Aragaki standing there, arms crossed. But his expression is neither angry nor resentful, just a bit… undecided, he thinks. When he doesn't say anything, the older boy sighs, scratching his head. "Look… I'm sorry, about yesterday. Emotions were running high, and even if he is your friends, he's still a Shadow. I…"

"You just want to protect us," Makoto murmurs, turning his eyes towards Ryoji again. "I know. You've done nothing wrong. It's all on me."

"…As much as I hate to say, yeah," He murmurs. "It is."

"I'll take all responsibilities," He whispers against his own hands. He couldn't bring himself to _think_ about any of this. He'll just… deal with it after Ryoji's awake. "Just… not now. I'll tell you and Kirijou-senpai when he's awake."

"…Alright," The man mumbles. "I ain't gonna go to school anyways, so… what d'ya want for breakfast? And _no_ , you ain't denying my ass, Yuuki."

He smiles to himself. As bashful and rough as Aragaki is, he still cares like no one else, and he's _kind_ , far too kind for the likes of him. He _lied_ and put everyone in danger. He doesn't deserve this. But he knows better than to refuse the older boy by now, so he just sighs and leans against the backrest of the chair, focusing his attention on the feeling of hard wood on his back instead.

"…Anything's fine, I'm not that hungry. Something easy to cook is fine, too."

The man sighs. "A'ight, if you say so. And hey, kid?"

"Yes?" He says, turning around slightly.

"…Just, I know you have your reasons. But know that I'm still here. You can lean on me anytime, 'kay?"

He lets himself laugh quietly. "Alright. Thanks, Senpai."

And when the man leaves, he's left with his own thoughts once more.

* * *

Ryoji looks a bit lost when he wakes up to Makoto by his side.

He forces himself to smile, sitting hunched on the chair, hands still clasped together and resting between his legs. He follows Ryoji's blue eyes that seem to rest at the clock beside the bed, then finally, at him. The emotions in them shift from confusion to worry. Makoto forces his uneasiness away. "…You're awake."

"…Yeah," The boy murmurs, sitting up. He finds himself steading the other boy, grabbing his shoulder, preventing his fall. After a while, he says. "Makoto, why—"

"I was worried about you. Still am," He says, pulling back once Ryoji's properly propped himself up. "Are you okay?"

"You shouldn't be worrying about _me_ , an _enemy_ ," He says without making eye contact.

"…I know," He whispers. "But I still do, so… here we are, I guess."

He feels _obligated_ to return the favor. Ryoji saved him, before, and even during his short, blissful time as a student, he's helped Makoto much more than he could've ever repaid. The decision to not tell anyone about what Ryoji is… might've partly been because he's afraid of letting a dear friend, a _part of him_ , go. He's _weak,_ he knows that, and to think that his weakness almost ruined someone else's life (again) ( _I'm sorry, Aigis, I really am_ ) makes his stomach churn.

He shakes his head and centers himself. Not now, he can't break down just yet. He still has to take the fall for his own mistakes, take responsibilities for his selfishness. But, right now, he needs _answers_ , and while Ryoji'd be more than happy to tell all of the SEES, he needs to hear it first. If he can correct it somehow, then maybe…

"…You want me to tell you everything before I tell the rest of them, right?" Ryoji says, his eyes sad but understanding. Then his cold hand rests on his trembling one (he doesn't even know he's _shaking_ ) before he continues. "…If you want, then I will."

"Thank you," He murmurs, inhaling sharply. "So… The Fall? What are you? What's your purpose? What is the Fall, and what's Nyx going to do?"

"I guess I'll have to say that Nyx herself is the mother of Shadows, the very manifestation of _Death_ , the inevitable, the undefeatable. I am the beacon that would draw Nyx to the world, and when she arrives, she'll turn every single human being into the Lost," The boy explains slowly, weighing each and every word on his tongue, as if afraid to upset him.

"The Fall, the end of the world as we know it," He concludes, looking out at the window, at the bright sunlight. "…And by your words, the Fall is inevitable."

"Yes," He murmurs. "My existence is the affirmation of the Fall. The bell has already tolled, and the Fall is unpreventable, since Nyx herself is indestructible. You can't win, Makoto. It's _hopeless_."

He doesn't reply, instead, he finds his mind reeling, trying to find a solution. Every word must be _analyzed_ and thoroughly dissected. He _needs_ to find a solution, no matter what.

He has to have hope. It's all he has left.

"Makoto," Ryoji whispers, drawing him out of his thoughts. He looks up, and Ryoji's grabbing his hand a little tighter, his smile slight and broken. "I don't want you to suffer until then. Being inside you gave me my humanity, so… I think, if you kill me, you'd be able to forget about everything, and live in peace until the Fall comes."

"…You mean… you want me to kill you?" He asks, voice raw. "To forget about it all?"

"Yes," Ryoji says. "Please, Makoto. The Fall cannot be avoided, so I—"

"Ryoji," He snaps. "If we—if _I_ forget about everything, then the trails I've faced, the bonds I've made, would be reduced to _nothing._ They would mean _nothing_. You want me to return to the Broken Fool I once was? Lonely and afraid and unable to face himself, unable to _forgive_ himself?"

Ryoji gapes, but provides him with no answer of his own.

Makoto sighs. "…Alas, that choice is not mine to make. If they want to forget, then that's what I'll do. But for me, I won't. I _can't_ , not after everything they've given me, not after everything _you've_ given me. Not after you _saved_ me from myself and my fears, Mochizuki Ryoji."

"…I'm sorry," He murmurs. "But… I just don't want you to suffer."

"I know," He says, looking at the boy straight in his sapphire blue eyes, then musters up the best smile he could've created. "But you've told me this before, right? Life is painful. It's sorrowful and kind. And Life… is a precious gift, to live is to suffer, to learn, to enjoy. Without pain, there can be no happiness. You tell me this yourself."

Ryoji laughs quietly. "I did, huh? But… yes, I guess so."

"I can't forget," Makoto shakes his head, gripping Ryoji's hand tightly. It's so cold, he notes. But he finds that he doesn't mind it. "If I do, my friendships, my _love_ , will be nothing more than empty shells of what they are now. I can't allow myself to forget about _anything_ , or any of them. Even if it hurts, I want to remember, to live."

"…I understand," Ryoji says. "Then that's _your_ answer. But you said that the choice is not yours alone to make?"

"I have to take responsibilities for my inactions," He says quietly as he pulls back and pulls out his phone, tapping away and sending the SMS to his two seniors. Aragaki acknowledges it instantly with a short _OK_ , while Kirijou doesn't send anything back. But he knows she's already received it. "If they wish to forget, then I wouldn't have minded going back into the hell hole that I've crawled out from."

Ryoji doesn't say anything for a while, his eyes glued to the wall before him. And then, he throws his legs off the edge of the bed. When he looks up at Makoto again, his eyes are still desperate, but… they're _freer_ than they were before. "Are you thinking? Finding solutions?"

"Yeah," He says quietly. "Nothing is truly invincible, even a _god_. Maybe… give me a bit of time, and I might be able to think of something."

"Okay," Ryoji murmurs. "When you do, you can call me. I'm still partly human, after all, even though I'll not be going to school again. I'll be forced to rescind it on the next Full Moon, however."

"It won't take that long," Makoto muses. "When I do, I'll call… and we'll talk this over, before the others make their decisions."

"Right," He hums. "…Right."

* * *

He doesn't miss the tenseness and the fear in each of their expressions as Ryoji explains everything he's already told Makoto to the rest of the SEES.

When they all fall silent, Ryoji just gives them a small smile. "You don't have to decide right now. You have until the next Full Moon—December 31st, to make your final decision. Then… goodnight, and please, think over this well."

He turns to leave, but Makoto grabs his wrist first. He doesn't miss the looks of the SEES, although he isn't sure what to make of those eyes quite yet. When Ryoji turns to him, he just manages out, quietly. "…Do take care, Ryoji. Until then."

He smiles. "You really are impossible, Makoto… but yes, until then."

As soon as he walks out the door, Makoto could hear something, like fluttering of wings. And when Yamagishi gasps and says that she couldn't sense him anymore, it's confirmed that he's already gone, disappeared from this place.

Makoto collapses onto the sofa, a hand on his face, not daring to face the member of the SEES. They all seem unsure of what they want to speak or do next, and the silence that's blanketing over them is getting heavier and heavier by the second until he couldn't breathe anymore. He forces himself to sigh, to do something, _anything_.

In the end, he just sits there, unable to bring himself to move. He pulls his hand away from his face and looks up at his team, at his _friends_ , whose trusts he had betrayed so thoroughly that he thinks there's no way to restore them again. They're looking at him a bit strangely, but he's too tired and too _scared_ to be able to read their feelings.

He isn't sure how long he's sitting there, looking at no where but his own hands, but when he looks up again, they're already gone, except for Aragaki who hangs back. He's about to say something when the older man interrupts him. "Are you okay?"

He blinks stupidly a few times before laughing quietly. "No, I'm not."

"I see," The man hums, closing the large door and walking towards him. Aragaki sits at the sofa next to his, leaning back, relaxing (or at least, trying to). "…Looks like you've already made up your mind."

"The decision isn't mine to make," He murmurs, closing his eyes and trying to pick off every detail he can. He has to find the solution. He _must_ win, for everyone's sake. He's been harboring Death inside him for _a decade_ , so the responsibility of stopping Nyx is his, and his alone.

"But you've already made yours," The older boy repeats.

"…Yes."

"That was quick," He hums. Makoto opens his eyes to see the man looking at him _too kindly_. He feels like he doesn't deserve it. If he had died all those years ago, maybe none of this would've come to pass. "So? What's your decision?"

"Does it matter?" He says with a sigh. "As I said, the final choice is—"

"—It's _all of us_ to make. Don't count yourself out of the team, Yuuki," Aragaki finishes for him. "You know, we've… I mean, some of us—and by that, I mean me and Aki—have talked a bit about this. While your choice to keep the fact that _he_ is Death under wrap is a dick move, it… the fact that he saved your life before makes it understandable. I dunno about the rest, but I forgive you."

"You shouldn't have," He murmurs. "I could've endangered you, or worse."

"But in the end, that choice makes no difference, right?" Aragaki says with a small shrug. "Well, this is just my two cents on it, though. I dunno what the others think, so… you're going to have to live with the repercussions of keeping secrets, kid."

"I'm aware," He says. After chewing his on his cheek, he murmurs. "…I chose not to kill him."

"Can I know the reason?" He asks.

"I _can't_ forget," He says, his voice trembling. "I can't allow myself to. If I do, all these bonds I've made, all the choices, all the _progress_ , would've been reduced to nothing. I can't allow your efforts to go to waste, nor could I allow myself to back down. Not now, not _ever_."

"…Hah," Aragaki lets out a small huff of laughter. When he looks at the man fully, he's _grinning_ from ear-to-ear. "You've grown a lot. If it had been you from a few months ago, you would've chosen to forget it all just to escape the pain."

"It's only because I have bonds now. I… they weren't this _deep_ and intricate back then," He reasons.

"Yeah, but only because you _want_ to change that these bonds of ours—of _all of us_ —could've grown this _ardent_ , kid. Be proud. Not many could've achieved what you've done."

It takes him a few minutes for the meaning of it all to sink in, and when it does, he's already _crying_. He isn't sure if it's sorrow, or happiness, or whatever. He curls into himself and lets the tears flow out. Large hands are patting his head and grabbing his shoulder. He doesn't mind it as he keeps crying, the weight he doesn't realize he's carrying is let go, and now—now he's _free._

His choice to live symbolizes the strength of the bonds he's made, that he'd go to great length to preserve them.

And it symbolizes that right now, he's _loved_. He's loved, and he loves them all.

He isn't sure why this realization hits him _this late_ , but he doesn't care.

He's _loved_. Even if his choices would cause them to turn their backs on him, he wouldn't have minded. These loves they've shared, these bonds they've made—he'll go through hellfire itself to keep them, to safeguard them.

He'll protect them—their lives, their futures, their souls—even at the cost of his own.

* * *

Nyx is _undefeatable_ , and _indestructible_.

But it's the way Ryoji puts it that irks him.

 _The Fall is unpreventable **because** Nyx is undefeatable_.

He shakes his head; right now, he has to focus on polishing his strength. He has to get stronger, just to be able to grasp that possibility of saving the world—saving _his_ world—with his own hands. He swings the wooden sword down again, and again, and again, repeating the motions for the _hundredth_ , for the _thousandth_ , time, committing every little bit of the motions to his memories. He'll have to sneak into Tartarus alone tonight again (since everyone's still trying to come to terms with the possibility of their own _deaths_ ).

He stops after he reaches the two-thousandth-time marks, sweats covering his whole body. It's already 6 pm, he should be closing up the gym soon. But…

He hears the door creaking open, and thinks for a second that it might've been someone from the Kendo Club, only to see Sanada standing there, his arms crossed. He just looks at the man for a while before turning his attention back to the wooden blade. "…I'll close up when I'm done, don't worry."

"You've been sneaking into Tartarus all by yourself lately," Is what Sanada says.

He puts his arms over his head and swings the blade down in practiced motion, keeping his muscles tensed and his core engaged, not allowing himself to slack off. The door's closed, and then there's footsteps approaching him. He answers once he reaches the tenth swing. "I'll be careful. Don't worry."

"But being _alone_ without a single support is dangerous," The boxer remarks.

He stops the swings and turns back to the man. "As I said, I'll be careful."

Sanada sighs. "Alright, then how about this; you're coming back here tonight, right?"

Makoto looks at the boxer for a while longer. It doesn't seem like he'd be selling him out, but there's something strange in the way he looks. Makoto isn't sure what to make of it, however. "I guess so. I've got nothing better to do, and no one to talk to. Aragaki-senpai is busy today."

"…I see," He hums. "How about this; I'll not tell Mitsuru, but I'm coming with you tonight."

He stops, unsure. He couldn't bring himself to face any of them right now, he… thinks. He frowns, his eyes glued to the single blemish on the gym floor. In the end, he sighs and relents. "…If you insist."

"Great. I'll drag Shinji along, too, since his business should conclude an hour before midnight."

"Wait, you don't—"

"Yuuki," Sanada interrupts. "Trust me, both I and Shinji need to blow of some steams, too. And since you went to Tartarus for—what, three days in a row now, and able to navigate it all by yourself?—then I guess we can trust you to keep us safe."

Trust, huh?

He wants to ask why Sanada thinks he still can be trusted after the damn stunt he's pulled, but refrains from doing so.

He doesn't need to know (can't face) the truth.

* * *

The atmosphere is awkward as all hell.

The Evoker is his only comfort as he stands there, waiting for the Dark Hour to begin. Aragaki ( _you said you were busy!_ ) and the boxer are standing next to each other, exchanging hushed whispers. He doesn't care about the content of their conversation, so he lets them be. It's only a few minutes away, and he had planned on doing the impossible tonight—to face the final, the greatest foe, the _Reaper_ —but it looks like he'll have to scrap that idea and save it for later. He can't endanger them with his own selfish wishes.

The injuries from the previous night still sting a little, and he isn't sure if he should bring it up to the other two at all. He's been… a bit reckless, if he is to be honest with himself. Throwing his life into the fray like he did last night wasn't something he'd usually do, but found himself doing it regardless. He sighs; he really is starting to think and act in circles like a dog chasing its own tail. He really needs to stop.

He shrugs and puts the Evoker back into the holster as the sky turns the sickening shade of green, the moon still bright in the sky. He watches as the school twists and turns, reshaping and remaking itself into the maze that is Tartarus, the tower that exists for no particular purpose except for housing humanity's greatest foes, the Shadows.

"So," Sanada begins as he stretches and punches the air, while Aragaki seems more or less ready to join the fight. Makoto isn't sure what he should make of that, so he just… doesn't. "Which floor were you last at?"

"214th, at the very end of the fifth block."

"Wait a sec," Aragaki says, almost growling. "We were last at the 201st, weren't we?"

Oops.

He doesn't say anything, only shrugging a little. That is exactly when Aragaki almost stomps over to grab him, but Sanada gets in the way first. The older boy doesn't stop with his words, however. "Yuuki, what the actual _fuck!?_ You were climbing _up_ the damn tower _alone!?_ I thought you were just training on the previous floors!"

"I've got nothing better to do," Is what he ends up saying, trying his best to keep his voice leveled and his heart steady. "And I'm confident enough not to screw myself over."

"Kid, what the fuck?" Aragaki snarls. "This ain't 'bout whether you're strong or not! Are you trying to make me worry to death or something!?"

He stops, frowning, before turning to the older boy. "What do you mean?"

"Climbing alone means you're facing _new enemies_ , new _dangers_ , alone! You could've gotten your ass _killed!_ "

"I was—"

" _Makoto!_ "

The usage of his first name by the senior stops him cold. He turns to see Aragaki, to look into the man's eyes as he tries to calm himself down. Only then does he realize that the man's _worried sick_ , and he thinks it's not just about his body, either.

Aragaki sighs, pushing Sanada away before walking towards him. Much to his surprise, the man just puts his hand on his head and ruffles at his hair. "Just… I'm worried 'bout you, y'know? You're precious to me, much like Aki and Mitsuru are. So please… just don't take more risks than necessary. I don't want to lose someone so close to me."

He flinches, and for the second time in his life, he's reminded that his life is not his alone, not anymore. He's already given parts of him to his friends, his confidants, and theirs to him.

He sighs before smiling. "I'm sorry, Aragaki-senpai."

"…Shinjirou," The man says, scratching his cheek. He thinks he sees Sanada snickering. "Call me Shinjirou, or Shinji, or whatever already, brat."

He allows himself to laugh at that. "Alright. Then, I'm sorry… and thank you, Shinjirou-senpai."

"It's as you said, Yuuki," Sanada muses, grinning at the older boy as he tries to stop the boxer from using his shoulder as an armrest. "He really is a Tsundere, huh?"

"I don't need to hear _that_ from someone like _you_ , dude!"

"Um, Sanada-senpai?" He asks as the boxer grabs Ara— _ahem_ , Shinjirou by the shoulder and ruffling his fist over his hair through the beanie. When the man looks up, he says, "I… why are you still trusting me, after…"

"I know the feeling of wanting to repay a debt, Yuuki," He says, letting Shinjirou go. "And from what Shinji told me, it isn't just saving you from a stray dog or anything. He saved you from your despair and your fear. I'd understand that, and I know you didn't mean to put us in harm's way. So yeah, I forgive you, and I still trust you."

"…You guys are unbelievable," He murmurs, shaking his head and smiling minutely. This kind of faith in him… he doesn't deserve it. "Thank you."

"Well! Enough about the depressing stuffs," Sanada claps his hands together. "Let's kick some asses for shits and giggles, shall we?"

"Right," He hums, brandishing the blade in his grip experimentally. "Let's."

* * *

He finds himself staring into the ceiling once again.

The little outing with Sanada and Shinjirou proved to be quite… liberating. Letting his mind relax and forcing himself away from thinking about their impending deaths or the trusts he's lost (and the trusts he still manages to keep, somehow) or everything that exists in between is nice. He sighs and sits up, his hand absently palming his desk until he finds the book he hadn't been able to finish for the past week.

He's not going to be sleeping anyway, so why the hell not, right?

Kirijou said they'll talk tomorrow night in order to determine their next course of action. It's unwise to stay lost and without goal like they are now, and he agrees. Although, their choices don't matter much in regard to what he wants to do. He'll still prepare to fight, regardless. But if they choose to forget and live blissfully until the end comes, then so be it.

He can't. But he has already given up the power to make a choice about all of this the moment he kept Ryoji's true nature a secret, anyway.

He sighs and pads his way down towards the lounge, only to almost immediately backtracks when he hears voices. But then again, he's going to run in circles if he keeps to his own room, so he decides to just screw it and walks down.

Kirijou and Yukari (or should he have referred to her as Takeba, now?) are talking, two warm cups of chocolate on the table before them. He doesn't greet them and heads straight for the couch, only to be stopped by Koromaru barking up at him.

He ignores their stares and kneels down to play with the canine a little. "Hey there, Koromaru. Did I wake you up, boy?"

The dog barks and wags his tail, following after him as he sits down on the couch and turns on the TV, not even caring what kind of show is on. After he's settled down, he lets Koromaru rests his jaws on his thigh and starts reading the damn thing; Kafka's _Metamorphosis._

Before he even gets two sentences in, Kirijou is calling, her voice flat and controlled. "Yuuki, do you mind coming here a second?"

He doesn't look up, furrowing his brows a little. "I doubt you'd need me close at hand to speak your mind, Senpai. What is it?"

Hushed whispers. Exasperated sighs. He looks up to see Yukari looking straight at him. He finds himself unable to hold his gaze against her and looks away, his eyes glued to the letters on the paper. And then, Kirijou murmurs. "…How have you been?"

"I'm alright," He says, keeping his voice leveled.

"That's good," She mumbles, uncharacteristically so. And then, "Why are you down here this late?"

"Couldn't sleep," He replies truthfully.

"I see," She hums. "Have you made your decision yet?"

He weighs between telling her that his choice does _not_ matter, or to say that he already has. He decides to go for the latter. "Yes."

"…That was fast," He hears Yukari says.

He simply gives the two of them a shrug before going back to his book, trying his best to keep his mind off the things he needs to do. He'll think about Ryoji's cryptic words more tomorrow, but for tonight, he's going to try his damn best to push it all back down and not worrying about it.

He ignores all the other things excepts for Koromaru and his soft, warm fur. He absentmindedly rubs his coat of white and gray with one hand while using the other to flip through the pages. And soon, he finds himself in the zone, everything around him no more than background buzz.

He isn't quite sure how long he's stayed there, but when he finishes the final page and looks up, the dog is already fast asleep, the lights in the kitchen gone, the only sound that accompanies him are soft puffs that Koromaru breathes out.

He smiles and pats his head a little before standing up and stretching himself. He's still wide awake, for some reason, so he just sighs and tries to find something else to do to pass the time—

"You're way into books sometimes, you know?"

He turns to see Yukari sitting at the other end of the couch, her hand playing with the small plush on her phone. Makoto blinks before murmuring. "…Sorry,"

She hums. "How was it?"

He looks down at the cover, then back up at her as she keeps her eyes on the plush and not at him. This much should be expected, he guesses; she's already lost her faith in him, after all. He inwardly sighs and replies. "Existential nihilism is fun."

She doesn't say anything to that, so he lets her be.

But before he walks out, she stops him with a few words. "…I want to know your choice, and the reason."

He tilts his head. "What for?"

She ignores his inquiry. "Can I?"

He looks at her for a long while. She's keeping her face straight and neutral, exceptionally hard to read, even though he could see through her just a few weeks ago. But… then again, this is something he should be expecting, after all.

He then weighs the options in his head. After a while, he decides to only answer a part of it. "I chose not to kill him."

She hums again, brows furrowing. When he doesn't add anything else, she looks up. "…And?"

"The reason doesn't matter. My choice doesn't matter," He says, giving her a tired smile as he waves his hand. "…See you tomorrow."

She doesn't return his goodbye, and it hurts a bit (it hurts like he's dying), but he understands.

So he just leaves it at that and returns to his room.

(Even if he deserves it, it still _hurts_ ).

(He wants to cry).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh, I was gonna write something, but that would be spoilers, so I guess you'll have to wait for the next chapter?
> 
> I have written over 35k words on the sequels now what the heck. No regrets, tho, AkeShu is fun to write lol.
> 
> See you next time!


	20. XVIII: The Waning Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The question stops her. She is thinking about not answering it and pressing for the answer, but the inquiry itself feels… important. Necessary. She lets herself think about it for a bit before murmuring, a little unsure. "I think… life is the experiences. To live, for me, is to experience things, both good and bad, and cherish them all."
> 
> He smiles. "A bit different from mine, but… thank you, for answering."
> 
> "What's yours?" She asks.
> 
> "You know about my power as the Wild Card, right? The power to change Personas at my own free will, to change my personalities as I wish?" He says, gray eyes boring straight into hers. She gulps, but nods. When she does, he continues. "My abilities are dictated by the bonds I have with other people. My power—my life—is made out of the bonds I've shared with all of you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, so yeah! Moon! We're almost there, folk. And that damn sequel will be posted as another work, methinks, since it focuses on P5 casts more than I had originally intend. Also, might have spin-offs of this fics about all their shenanigans and sappiness cuz why not XD

**_XVIII: The Waning Moon_ **

_Moon: Illusion, Intuition, Uncertainty, Complexity, Secrets_

_Reversed Moon: Fear, Deception, Understanding, Clarity_

* * *

His answer comes too quickly.

And he chose to _fight_ , to not forget.

A part of her thinks she could rationalize him, but the other part is confused; how could he come to the conclusion so quickly and so absolutely? Does he not fear Death? And she knows, better than any other person in the dorm, that it isn't because he values his life that much, either. He still does, but she knows he loves other people's lives more than his own.

She wants to know.

She sighs and fidgets a little, waiting for the team to gather at the lounge. No one would go to Tartarus, no one wants to hang out, no one wants to do _anything_. Strangely enough, the only person who doesn't seem to be affected by all of this is Makoto.

Makoto, who always looks deep in thoughts, neither depressed nor scared. Makoto, who always seems to be up to something. Makoto, who she feels like she doesn't know anymore.

She looks up from her seat when Makoto reaches the lounge, hands in his coat's pockets, headphones against his chest. The others just exchange a few looks between themselves before Mitsuru claps her hands together to draw in their attentions. Once they all look at her, she says, "So… we should think about what we're going to do."

"Yeah," She says. "It sucks around here. No one wants to do anything, not even hanging out. It blows really hard."

"…You seem so calm about this, Yukari-chan," Fuuka murmurs as she looks at her.

She just shrugs. "There's really no point wallowing in it, right?"

"That's true," Mitsuru says. "Well… have you all made your decisions yet?"

She automatically looks towards Makoto, who still has his hands in his pockets, the MP3 dangling off his neck with its light off. He catches her eyes for a second, but says nothing. She could see his jaws clenching a little as she hears Sanada speak. "I… dunno. But I don't plan on running away."

"I see," Mitsuru hums.

"Nor I," Yukari says. "Dad wouldn't have wanted that, so I won't run. I've learnt and seen so much since coming here. I don't want to forget."

"I've made mine," Aragaki says, dropping himself on the couch next to Sanada. "I ain't gonna run. I'm gonna fight and live."

"As expected of you," Amada nods. He then sighs quietly. "I still don't know about it myself."

"What about you, Junpei?" She asks, turning to her childhood friend as he bites on his lip, fists curled even tighter. When he's not responding, she tries to poke something out of him. "What's wrong? Are you scared?"

The reaction is as immediate as it is violent. He looks at her—at them all—eyes wide with fire of rage in them. "Am I scared!? Of course I fucking am! Do you think this is a fucking _joke!?_ "

…She really has to watch her mouth more.

"Then what would you do about it?" Mitsuru says, arms crossed.

"There isn't a damn thing I can do!" He bellows, and before they could react, he's already grabbing Makoto by the scruff of his neck, slamming his back against the grandfather clock. " _He's_ the only one who can do a damn thing about it! Come on, say something! You can do something, right!? Since you're so _special_ and all that!"

"Junpei—"

"'Sides, ain't this all _your_ fault anyways, harboring _that thing_ inside you all this time, huh!?" His anger is going above what she could've foreseen. She can't see Makoto's eyes, hidden under his hair, but she could see the tenseness in his posture. "Well!? What are you going to do!?"

Aragaki looks about ready to rip Junpei away, but Makoto's soft, well-controlled voice cut through his fury like a sharp blade. "The decision is not mine to make."

"…What?"

Aragaki doesn't look surprised, although he does seem a bit sad. Sanada is a bit taken aback, but she thinks she sees understanding in his eyes. The others are dumbstruck, however. And when silence reigns, Makoto lifts his face up, a goddamn _smile_ on his face, a smile that doesn't match the way he tenses up or the way he looks.

"I've given up my rights to make a decision the moment I betrayed all of your trusts," He speaks quietly. Junpei lets him go like he's scalded, his expression as lost as she's feeling. Makoto stands a bit straighter, hands absently straightening out his coat. "This is the best I can do to make up for that. Whether you choose to kill him or not, I'll oblige by your wishes. My choice doesn't matter."

"You've already made a decision?" Fuuka asks.

"Yes," He whispers. "I can't allow myself to forget, no matter what. Even if it _hurts_ , I want to remember everything."

"Easy for you to say!" Junpei snarls. "Right? And I guess that's cuz you've got absolutely _nothing_ left if you choose to forget!"

"Junpei! That's out of line!" Yukari snaps. But before she could do anything about it, Aragaki has already sent him sprawling across the floor with a right hook that could've shattered a cheekbone.

"Watch your damn mouth, you _brat!_ " Aragaki barks, towering over Junpei like a giant, menacing, his eyes full with fury. "You _think_ this kind of decision is _easy_ for him!? Why don't you try listening to his story for a minute and then decide that afterwards!?"

There's a beat of silence.

"Yeah, you're right, he's got absolutely not a _shit_ if he forgets. Doesn't mean remembering is painless, you know—"

"That's enough, Shinjirou-senpai."

Makoto stops them with his still calm, collected tone that could command the raging sea to a halt. The older boy looks at him for a while before clicking his tongue and stepping back. She doesn't miss the usage of the older boy's first name, however, but she couldn't focus on it just yet.

Junpei looks lost, and it feels like he's coming back to his senses when he stands up shakily, eyes casting downward. He looks away. "…I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to—"

"You've no need to apologize to me," Makoto says with a pained smile. "After all, it's not just you who think that if I'd died and taken Ryoji down along with me back then, maybe things would have been different."

Her breath hitches. "Makoto…"

"If I had died back when I was drowned, or even when I was shot, maybe the end of the world could have been avoided. I know some of you thought that — are thinking of that. Because I'm pondering about it myself, too," He says, his smile not faltering, but it looks so dry, so hurt. She just wants to hug him and says that it's not his fault, but she couldn't.

He closes his eyes and sighs, scratching the back of his head a little. And much like how Ryoji left, he turns back to glance at them slightly as he walks towards the stair.

"Just tell me your decisions whenever. We still have time. Whatever you decide doesn't change what I have to do."

And he's gone.

* * *

She finds him on the cold rooftops after the Dark Hour has already struck.

They've spent the rest of the ' _meeting_ ' thinking over his words and deciding that they're not going to be making progress tonight. Aragaki ripped Junpei a new one. He didn't tell the rest of them all that he knows, but he pointed at Makoto's past enough to make them all see where he is coming from; that Ryoji had saved him more than a few times (she still couldn't wrap her head around it) and that he did what he did to repay the kindness and the debt of _life_ , being as kind as he is. And she almost beat herself up for it. She is his girlfriend; how could she not understand this?

…Or, if he no longer wants to consider it that way, she _was_ his girlfriend.

Her initial anger has already settled into some kind of sludge inside her ribcage and a bitter taste on her tongue. He keeps secrets, something she couldn't quite forgive, and yet she has to wonder; would she have done the same, had she been in his shoes? She wouldn't know. Unlike her, he has _never_ , not since he came to this place, put _his_ life before theirs. And for him to keep Ryoji's identity a secret — she isn't even sure if he does it for his own sake, for Ryoji's, or for all of theirs.

But she knows one thing for certain, now that the rage and that has been boiling inside the crevices of her soul is gone; that Makoto could never put them in harm's way voluntarily.

She shakes her head and walks over to him slowly, the sounds of her boots against the fallen snow rendering any attempts at sneaking useless. He doesn't turn to her, but acknowledges her presence by scooting slightly to the left, leaving enough space on the bench for her to sit on.

Once she does, she takes a good, long look at him as he looks up at the yellowish moon above, his feet resting in the pool of liquid red underneath the soles of his shoes. They sit there in silence for a while before she decides to break them. "You know… you still haven't given me the reason."

He looks back down at her, his eyes unreadable, but the pain in those pair of steel gray she's always loved is too visible to be ignored. He smiles. "And here I thought you've already given up on finding out."

She pouts. "Fat chance."

He shakes his head, but says nothing for a while longer, his back still hunched and his eyes still glued to her. He then tears them away from her, his hands clasped together. His breath is a bit unsure, slightly ragged, but his face is controlled. She has to remind herself that these are the skills he's always has in him—the skills to conceal any and everything he's thinking and feeling under a near impenetrable wall of cold apathy.

She wants to tear the damn fortress back down like she's done before, but this is different. She's shown him her distrust, and it's sending him down the pit of self-deprecation. He's _blaming himself_ , for all things and everything, like he used to do. Before she could do anything, she has to show him that even if she had a brief period of faithlessness against him, she still believes in him, she still trusts him with both her body and her soul.

But before she could set out to say those words, he interrupts her with a whisper. "What do you think life is?"

The question stops her. She is thinking about not answering it and pressing for the answer, but the inquiry itself feels… important. Necessary. She lets herself think about it for a bit before murmuring, a little unsure. "I think… life is the experiences. To live, for me, is to experience things, both good and bad, and cherish them all."

He smiles. "A bit different from mine, but… thank you, for answering."

"What's yours?" She asks.

"You know about my power as the Wild Card, right? The power to change Personas at my own free will, to change my _personalities_ as I wish?" He says, gray eyes boring straight into hers. She gulps, but nods. When she does, he continues. "My abilities are dictated by the bonds I have with other people. My power—my _life_ —is made out of the bonds I've shared with all of you."

_My life is made out of the bonds I have._

"You mean…" She begins, the weight of that single sentence dawning on her.

"My life is defined as the bonds I've made, the very connections I've established," He replies. "If I forget it all… it would've been as if I've never lived before. I can't allow that, not when this life belongs to _all of you_ , not when this life is shaped and made by the things you've given me. If I choose to forget, It'd have meant that I choose to trample on everything you all have done for my sake."

He doesn't even view his life as his own. He sees it as _theirs_ , and he's acting according to how he thinks, and that _scares her._ To think he's carrying this weight all by himself, to think he'd sacrifice his own sense of self, his _autonomy_ , his _individuality_ , just to protect and preserve the bonds she's always taken for granted.

He sees life from a very different angle from her.

"Makoto—" She begins, but cut herself short. She couldn't say that he's wrong. It's a matter of how you see things, it's a matter of perspective, a clash of ideals. No one is absolutely right, and no one is outright wrong, either. She couldn't do that. She can't rebuff his definition just because she sees it differently. So she changes the way she words it and says, quietly. "You… value our bonds more than I ever will."

"I know," He says, puffs of frigid cold leaving his lips as he lets out a short laugh. "But neither of us is wrong about this. Life is the combination of things, it's up to us to choose what aspect of life matters to us more."

"…You're right," She hums. When he doesn't move, she scoots a bit closer, slowly, until her knee finally touches his. He doesn't flinch away, but he's looking at her, curious. "And… I want you to know that I still love you."

That seems to surprise him. He blinks stupidly a few times before murmuring. "…Are you sure?"

"Mhm," She hums, and without his consent, pulls the right hand he tugs away in his pocket out and interlaces their fingers. It takes a while, but she finally feels him squeezing back just slightly. "I know you have your reasons to lie. I understand now, and while I don't think I can fully forgive you… I can say, for certain, that you did what you did not for your own sake, but for someone else's. And I'm sorry… for making you think I don't trust you anymore."

"Not that it's unfounded, but…" He sighs, holding her hand to his lips and kisses her knuckles softly. "If you think I'm still worthy of your trust, then I'll do my best to live up to that."

"You'd better," She murmurs. "…But I believe you will."

"…That kind of baseless trust is scary," He says as he shifts his hand slightly. "Are you sure you should be putting your faith in me like this, after the things I've done?"

"I am," She says, leaning her head onto his shoulder as she sighs. "I trust you with everything, Makoto."

She couldn't see his face, but she feels the rumbling in his chest, and she thinks he's chuckling. She smiles to herself, her other hand finding its way to his scarred one and covers it with both of her palms, his crooked, unfeeling fingers cold against her touch. She could never get over the fact that he could barely feel them anymore, but decides not to dwell too much on it.

"I love you," She hears him breathes as his fingers tighten around her own gently.

"And I you," She whispers back.

* * *

It looks like Junpei has already properly apologized to Makoto and made up their friendship. How does she know?

Because they're playing Mario Kart in the lounge.

"I've never really pegged you for a gamer type, kid," Aragaki says, propping his chin on his palm, legs crossed as he watches the two duking it out.

"You've never pegged me for _any_ type, rather," He retorts back before literally slamming Junpei's cart off his screen. "You suck, Junpei."

"Dude, the heck!? How are you so good at this!?"

"Practice."

"I've never seen you be bad at _anything_ ," Amada muses from the back, Koromaru in tow. "Yuuki-san, I think you're _way_ too talented with everything. I mean, best at Kendo? Strongest Persona User? Top of your grade academic-wise? Even Kirijou-senpai couldn't pull that off in such a short time!"

Inwardly, Yukari agrees.

"I only won silver in Kendo," He says, throwing the console down to the ground and puts a fist up in the air. "Yes!"

"You're _unfair_ , man! Unfair! Gimme some of your brain cells!" Junpei whines before trying to circle his arm around Makoto's neck, and the latter is quick to slip out of the way, too.

"I don't think he can give 'em to you, seeing that he's always sharing that one cell with Aki and using it to troll the shit right outta me," Aragaki says.

"We're not that bad, Shinji!" She hears Sanada (and sees Mitsuru looking at them, amused and annoyed in equal measures) yells from the kitchen.

"The fact that you're using _we_ prove my points, you know? Jesus Christ, the two of you _suck_."

"As I said," Amada seems to giggle as he takes a spot near Aragaki. The older man sighs and pats the boy's head a little. "You're way too talented about everything to be _normal_ , Yuuki-san. Could you share some secrets with me?"

Makoto looks a bit lost at that. He chews his tongue a little, brows furrow in thoughts (with a hand also trying to swat Junpei away) before he says. "…Practice?"

Aragaki just laughs while Yukari smiles a little; not knowing what to actually say as a proper answer is something _he_ would do. She exchanged an amused look with Mitsuru, who's still in the kitchen chatting with Sanada, then lands her eyes back to Fuuka who's silently tinkering with a bit of technology she doesn't even care to name. She then sits down beside Makoto as he picks up the controller again. "I see you two have made up. That's nice."

"Yeah, sorry about that again, dude," Junpei says, patting Makoto's back. This time he's careful enough not to hurt his already painful back, because if he does, she's going to rip him a new one. "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

Makoto just shrugs. "No offense taken. I mean… I earned that."

"Stop with self-loathing for a minute there, Makoto!" Aragaki says, grabbing his head with enough force that a vein pops on his hand, and Makoto's half-laughing, half-whining, trying and failing to pry himself free from the iron grip. "I told you before, you ain't allowed to hate yourself!"

"Ow, _ow_ , okay, okay! Hand off my head before you split my skull open!"

Aragaki complies, and Makoto sighs a little in relief, his hand absently rubbing his head.

After a while, he passes the controller to Sanada. She's a bit (a lot) surprised, but doesn't voice it as she watches him and _Aragaki_ , of all people, almost ripping each other a new one in _Mario Kart_ , a game for _friendships_ (as Junpei puts it). She's sitting beside Makoto, who's watching with his cheek in his hand, a nearly imperceptible smile on his face.

"You know," She begins, her hand subtly holding his. She feels him rubbing his thumb across her knuckles and giggles a little. "Who would've thought that Aragaki-senpai, of all people, would play something like this?"

"I can still hear you, Takeba!"

She ignores that.

"Everyone has a surprising side to them," Makoto hums. She leans her head against his shoulder and lets his body warmth seeps through her clothes. And then, he lowers his voice, just for her to hear. "Much like how surprised I am, seeing you being so cute and easily flustered around me."

She hits his arm a little before hissing. "Your attempt to flirt _sucks_."

He smiles. "I tried."

* * *

The night was well spent, if anyone asks her.

They manage to forget about the Dark Hour and Nyx for a moment. But she thinks, from the looks on everyone's faces, that they're half-way to their decisions already. And she thinks she knows what they are all going to choose.

She finds herself in his room (she hasn't been in here for a _week_ and it feels like _forever_ ) again, and as soon as she steps in, she makes a beeline for the bed, dragging him along without his consent. He doesn't put up a fight, however, so she just shrugs and goes with the flow.

They ended up sitting with their backs against the wall, legs crossed, knees slightly overlapping. She isn't too sure if her eyes are deceiving her or not, but when they're together alone like this, he seems so much softer than she remembers. She smiles and pulls his left hand to her lap, kneading it, massaging away the little tense spots on it.

He hums, content, before whispering softly. "Have you made your decision yet?"

"Yeah," She promptly answers as she holds his hand in hers. He responds with a gentle but firm grip, his thumb absently rubbing the back of her fingers. "You don't need to ask me. I think I've already made myself clear the first time."

"I see," He says. After a pause, he smiles slightly. "You remember what I said about my powers coming from the bonds I've made?"

"Yeah, why?" She asks, tilting her head slightly.

"Each of you represents a certain aspect of life—a certain Arcana," He says. She could surmise that much, seeing that each Full Moon Shadows are also identifiable with an Arcana. But she isn't too familiar with the concept. He turns to her, and smiles. "I'm the Fool, the number 0. And the SEES— _all of you_ —represents _me_."

"You mean," She begins. "The bonds with all of us _literally_ give something like _Orpheus_ power?"

"And everything else of the Fool Arcana, yes," He scratches his cheek. "It's slightly hard to explain, but each of my Personas are a bit different. They all belongs to one Arcana or the other, and the stronger that bond is, the stronger my Persona from that Arcana becomes."

"That means the closer you are to all of us as a group _and_ as individuals, the stronger and more versatile your power is, huh?" She says, smiling slightly. "And you're _amazing_ now. That's good."

He chuckles. "Do you want to know which person belongs to what card?"

"Sure."

"Junpei's the Magician," He says. Yukari makes a face; how is that Stupei a _Magician?_ Upon seeing her expression, however, Makoto laughs, his voice so soft and so _beautiful_. "The Magician represents strong will and determination."

"Oh," Is all she could think of saying. That explains it. No matter how stupid that guy is, he's really stubborn and maybe a bit of a bullhead. But he's determined, very much so, that much's certain. "That actually makes sense."

"I know, right?" He hums. "Yamagishi is the Priestess. Intuition, and spirituality."

"Also perfectly fit," She says. "Lemme guess; Mitsuru-senpai is an Empress?"

"Yes," He confirms with a small nod. " _Motherhood_ , protection, and comfort. She actually seems a bit more like an Emperor to me, but she's a woman, so… yeah."

"Makoto, if she heard that, she'd _execute_ you."

He shivers. "Yeah, please no."

She laughs a little and massages his palm again. He seems to relax further at that, his eyes close. They let silence fills the air for a while, comfortable and warm, a little fuzzy. She likes it, so she lets it be. After maybe a few minutes, she continues. "What about Sanada-senpai and Aragaki-senpai?"

"Sanada-senpai is the Emperor; strong willed, masculinity," He says, and she has to agree. Being a battle and workout maniac that he is, this makes a _lot_ of sense. "Shinjirou-senpai ( _there it is again, first name!_ ) is the Hierophant; education, authority. Someone who's wise and logical… also someone with an unhealthy obsession with the past."

"Yeah, since he's a really street-smart person, huh," She hums. She thinks the obsession with the past bits is tied to killing Amada's mother, but she isn't too sure. She just shrugs. "That leaves me, Amada-kun, Aigis and Koromaru, right?"

"Koromaru is Strength; courage and virtue over brute force. He's a really gentle dog, and a brave one, too, so I think it fits," Makoto says, hand absently rubbing his knee. "Amada is Justice; stoic, seeking order and justice, as the name implies."

She winces a little, remembering the snippets of conversations she's heard that, at first, he seeks revenge for his mother, killed while Aragaki's Persona went berserk. But she understands that; to seek justice even though he'd be putting himself in danger. And he even wanted to help SEES _before_ all of that, too.

"Aigis is the Chariot, driven, sometime to the point of being narrow-visioned. But determined enough to carve a path forward on her own."

That is also on point.

After a pause, he adds with a smile. "I've managed to do quite well with the power you've given me."

"...That also means all of us trust you, and you trust us all, no?" She says with a small smile.

He nods. "That is true."

A pause. "What about me? What's my Arcana?"

He tilts his head a little, as if thinking, and not about which one she belongs to, either. It seems like he's trying to find a way to word it. In the end, he shrugs and pushes himself away from the wall slightly. He then turns towards her with a gentle smile and places his hand on her cheek. She blinks stupidly, and before she could form an answer, his lips are already on hers.

This kiss is the _best_ by far, tender but with a little bit of intensity that literally steals her breath away. He nudges his way into her mouth and carefully massages her tongue with his own, a small sigh escaping his lips as he pushes her down onto the bed, trapping her between his arms, his chest pressed firmly against her own.

The moment stretches into forever, eternity that she doesn't want to end, a moment where she could forget about everything and just _live_ , normally. She slings both her arms around his neck and pulls him closer still. He hums before pulling slightly away, scarred hand caressing her jaw and down her neck, resting snugly right above her choker.

With a smile that she loves so, _so_ much, he murmurs. "Lovers."

She laughs lightly. She doesn't need any more interpretation to know what it means. "I see."

She pulls him back down for another kiss.

It doesn't matter what kind of trials and tribulations await them. She's sure that, as along as all of them are together, as long as Makoto's here, everything will be fine.

They'll be alright.

(But even so, a part of her thinks differently).

(There will be pain at the end of the road).

(That… is what her instinct is telling her).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might seems a little strange, for Yukaricchi to mend their relationship just so. But she did say she hasn't forgiven everything, just some of it. So... yeah? I guess?
> 
> The next one is more or less slice-of-life. And hey! I had tried, but I failed at this -- I've really, really tried not to smut things up, but I kinda did in XX: Judgement? Uh... I'll warn you again then. It's just, like, 2k worth of smut inside a sea of 146k angst, so yeah?????
> 
> See you in a few, folks!


	21. XIX: The Rising Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're more than qualified to obtain the miracle you wish for," Ryoji says, face softening slightly. "And I know you must've already figured it out, too, that the cost needed to perform such miracle—"
> 
> "—Is my life," He finishes. He's never been afraid of death. The only thing that's ever changed during his months at Iwatodai is his will to live, but he's still not afraid of his own demise, and he won't be afraid of it now. "Yeah. I already know that."
> 
> "But—are you sure?" Ryoji says, pleading. "You'll not just die. You'll be using every last scrap of your soul if you're going to seal a primordial god, the inevitable, like Nyx, away. You might have to suffer, alone, for an eternity!"
> 
> It's not hard to come to an answer. "I am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Another bit of slice of life, methinks -- and acceptance, from Makkun's part. :P
> 
> Don't let me keep ya!

**_XIX: The Rising Sun_ **

_Sun: Joy, Success, Celebration, Positivity, Optimism_

_Reversed Sun: Negativity, Depression, Sadness_

* * *

He manages to figure something out last night, and he isn't sure if he should really be happy about that or not.

Ryoji said that the Fall is unpreventable _because_ Nyx herself is indestructible, but it's the wordings that strike him wrong. And after the talk with Yukari last night about Arcanas and things like that, his mind lands onto something that makes him realize that the way he phrased that sentence is what gives him an idea of what he has to do.

What if, instead of _destroying_ Nyx, he seals her away instead? Would that stop the Fall from coming to pass?

He needs to know more.

He chooses to call Ryoji as soon as he's alone, standing in the empty Paulownia Mall, filled to the brim with the Lost. The sun has already set, and he told Yukari that he's just going to loiter around for a bit. Thankfully, she's planning on hanging out with the girls, so breaking away from them is quite an easy feat.

He speaks before Ryoji could as soon as he picks up. "Nyx is undefeatable, but is she _unstoppable_?"

A pause. " _I'd rather talk about this with you in person than through the phone. It'll be a long one._ "

Reluctance in his voice. Pained, even. Makoto sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Naganaki shrine?"

" _I'll be there. See you, Makoto_."

He hangs up as quickly as he answers the call. He sighs and puts his phone away.

The walk towards Naganaki shrine is as quiet and cold as it could've been, with whispers of leaves and cicadas filling the night. He watches his own cloud of cold air leaving his lips as a distraction as he makes his way towards his destination, both hands tugged deep inside his coat, feeing the hard steel of his Evoker resting snuggly at his belt.

He hasn't planned on fighting Ryoji, of course, but he brings the thing along in case the Dark Hour begins before he could return. It's already 11 pm, so the hour is not that far off. He sighs as he ascends the cold steps, and as soon as he reaches the top, he spots the yellow scarf at the swings.

He allows himself a small smile as he makes his way towards his best friend (his strongest enemy) and sits down on the empty swing next to his Death as his sapphire blue eyes look up at the night sky, at the crescent moon above.

They stay silent for a while yet before Ryoji begins first, his voice soft. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," He hums, legs swinging the seat minutely. He lets himself relax. "How've you been?"

"…Could've been better, I suppose," He says. His eyes then come down to him, and he smiles, so kind, so sorrowful. "You still choose the same?"

"Yeah, because I can't—and I don't want to forget the bonds I've made. That includes _us_ , Ryoji."

"I… see," He murmurs. "As stubborn as ever."

"Am I, now?" He chuckles.

There's another, slightly longer pause. After a while, Ryoji says. "So… have you thought up an idea? I'm still _Ryoji_ , so I'll help however I can."

"How kind of you," He murmurs, closing his eyes, steeling his nerves. "…You said the Fall cannot be avoided _because_ Nyx is undefeatable. What if Nyx is _stopped?_ Would the Fall be halted, too?"

Ryoji stiffens a little at that. He then says slowly and carefully. "…It would."

"Then all I have to do is seal Nyx," He murmurs, and before long, he's catching Ryoji looking at him with such pained expression, and with a bit of fear in those pair of shimmering blue. Makoto has an idea why. "…Is it impossible, or just that the price is high, Ryoji?"

He jumps a little at that. As he thought, Sealing the Goddess of Death is still within the realm of possibilities. And he just _knows_ what price he'll have to pay for that.

After a while, Ryoji lets out a long, shaky breath. "I've told you before, right? That you've already arrived at the Answer to Life, sooner than I could've known?"

"…Yes."

"You're more than qualified to obtain the miracle you wish for," Ryoji says, face softening slightly. "And I know you must've already figured it out, too, that the cost needed to perform such miracle—"

"—Is my life," He finishes. He's never been afraid of death. The only thing that's ever changed during his months at Iwatodai is his will to live, but he's still not afraid of _his own_ demise, and he won't be afraid of it now. "Yeah. I already know that."

"But—are you sure?" Ryoji says, pleading. "You'll not just die. You'll be using every last scrap of your soul if you're going to seal a primordial god, the inevitable, like Nyx, away. You might have to suffer, _alone_ , for an eternity!"

It's not hard to come to an answer. "I am."

At this, Ryoji's voice seems to break into tiny pieces, like glasses shattered by his resolve. " _Why?_ "

Makoto smiles. Ryoji has stopped moving his swing for a while now, clearly distressed by the aspect of _him_ dying and suffering. Even as enemies, he's still as kind as Makoto has always remembered. He takes a good, long look at _his_ Death, at Mochizuki Ryoji, at his other self. Someone who knows sorrow better than anyone, and someone who loves life more than any living souls out there.

"…These people, these bonds, I want to protect them all," He says, eyes not moving away from the pools of sapphire that are pleading him to stop, to reconsider. But he doesn't need to. "Life is a very precious gift. To live is to bond, to connect, to give a part of you away. I want them to live, even without me, even if I have to suffer, because _every_ life is in and of itself invaluable."

Ryoji looks like he wants to cry. "But so is yours."

"So is mine," He parrots. "But what's a suffering of one life in exchange for _billions?_ Hell, even if it's _only_ the SEES, or even _one_ person, I'll be saving—I'd still do it in a heartbeat."

"Makoto, please—" Ryoji murmurs. "I don't want _you_ to be in pain."

"Neither I you," He says, and the other looks up at him at that, surprised. "You're a dear friend, Ryoji. I don't want to fight you, either, but you're already chosen as an Appriser, and I can't allow you to complete your role. And trust me, I don't want to die. But my desire to see them live and prosper, to see the world blooms and blossoms, outweighs such things as fear of death."

Ryoji looks like he wants to say something, perhaps to dissuade him, or to console him, or something else entirely. In the end, however, he chokes his sobs back down and murmurs. "I'm sorry."

Makoto shakes his head. "You didn't choose this, you simply _are._ I hold no grudge against you."

Ryoji cries.

* * *

He finds himself before the door to the Velvet Room.

As soon as he opens it, Igor and Elizabeth both are smiling at him. He figures that they would know; after all, this place exists everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

"You're the most remarkable guest I've ever had the pleasure to have, Makoto-san," Igor says as he bows his head ever so slightly. "You found your Answer to Life faster than I'd thought, and readily accepted whatever fate lies beyond your path. For that, I salute you."

He laughs lightly. "Is that so? Quite the compliment, coming from you."

"Your resolve is remarkable," Igor says. "And the miracle you seek is within your reach. I'll tell you about it when the time comes, but know that as long as you do not falter, the miracle will be yours to take and use."

"That's reassuring to hear," He says. "Well, I guess I'll have to make use of these last days of mine the best I could. I don't want to have any regrets."

"Then, please allow Elizabeth to accompany you for the night," Igor offers, and his eccentric attendant bows slightly. "She'd be most pleased, if you could show her around."

"Sure," He shrugs. The Dark Hour is almost here, so having the 'Ruler of Power' by his side wouldn't hurt. And to be frank, Elizabeth's eccentricity is actually entertaining.

He steps out of the Velvet Room with Elizabeth close behind. After a bit of standing there, unsure of what to do, his attendant comes into his field of view and smiles at him. When he blinks stupidly, she says, "I have not told you this before, but I found you quite interesting, Makoto-san."

"How so?" He says, gesturing for her to follow him as he walks out of the alley and towards the Mall at large, his eyes looking for something to entertain both himself and the attendant with. He ends up walking her to Club Escapade (thanks to a certain Tsundere, he can now _drink_ here).

"Fate has always been cruel to you, yet you remain so kind. Why is that, I wonder?" She says as she follows him in. He seats himself at the far side table, and after a while, Elizabeth sits down with him.

"I'm not kind," He denies. It's two minutes until midnight. "I just don't want to see people going through what I had."

"Is that not your definition of kindness, though?" She asks, tilting her head slightly. Then, as if she's had her switch flipped, she smiles and claps her hands once. "But alas! We're here to enjoy our time, not to bore you with philosophy."

He laughs a little. She's a bit inattentive, when he thinks about it. "Alright. What do you want to do? You danced here last time."

"Hm, a question I cannot readily answer," She says with a finger to her chin, thinking. "But, I'd be most pleased if you can answer some of my questions for you."

"Questions for me?" He repeats.

"Yes. For instance; what does it feel, to know the closeness and the inevitability of your death?" She says, a cryptic smile on her face. "I've lived for eons, so the concept of life and death is a mystery to me. But from what I've always understood, most humans do not enjoy, or outright fear, the idea of their impending deaths."

…Huh. Yeah, he does know she's an immortal. Then again, she's also right. Most people would find that knowing their deaths are but a month away is terrifying. Most people wouldn't have been able to cope. And yet, when he thinks about it, he finds that he _regrets_ some things he'll have to leave behind, but he doesn't regret choosing to die for something or someone else.

"…I don't fear it," He answers carefully. "But I do regret leaving. Death… I think it's just like sleeping, only that you close your eyes and not waking up again. I don't see the point of fearing it."

"I see," She hums. "So, for you, it's not death that bothers you, but the knowledge that you'll have to leave behind things unfinished."

He shrugs. "But I choose to die so they might live. After all, life is beautiful. If they get to see even one more day, then dying right here and now for their sakes doesn't sound so bad to me."

"Most people would've called that _suicidal_ , even," She says with a chuckle. "But then again, it's not suicide if your death has a purpose."

"You think so?" He hums.

"From what I've heard from others, yes."

The Dark Hour strikes at this exact moment, turning the club eerie, the transmogrified people scattering across the dance floor. Elizabeth doesn't seem to care about the difference in the atmosphere, so he just shrugs. "From what Ryoji said, if I fail, we'll not live to see the next spring. But if I manage to pull off this _miracle_ , I'll still not live to see spring, but _they_ will."

"So it makes little difference to you in terms of your life, yes?"

"Kinda, yeah."

"Each human is so different I can understand one but not the other. How fascinating," His attendant hums, smiling radiantly. "I hope you'll be teaching me about your world during whatever free time you have left still. If you do not mind, of course."

"I don't," He says with a small chuckle. "Where do you want to go see next time?"

"Hmm," She seems to think over that question a bit more seriously than he thought she would. Then, "Maybe, if it's not too much of a trouble to you, your dorm?"

He winces. "I'll see what I can do about that."

He spends the rest of the Dark Hour talking about almost every nonsensical theories Elizabeth could have thought of.

And, to be fair, he finds the night quite entertaining.

* * *

Looks like he doesn't have to worry about them, now.

The SEES seems to have come to their own conclusions, if the lighter atmosphere and the resolute looks on their faces are anything to go by. He himself has the fortune to hang out with many of the members on multiple occasions, and to talk out everything with them. Each have their own reasons to live, to fight, and he's glad that they will. The future is theirs to make, and he'll make certain there _is_ a tomorrow waiting for them.

The miracle can be obtained, but he knows not how. The best he could do is training both his mind and body and strengthening his resolve further. If it can be done, if sealing Nyx can truly end the Fall, then he'll acquire that miracle with his own two hands without fail. And since Igor said that as long as he doesn't falter, the path forward will still be opened to him, he at least knows that it can be done still.

After spending the next week or so talking, training, and understanding each other, he realizes that there is _no way_ he'll back down from this, now. It's not like he can't, but he doesn't want to; his bonds with them are something he'll not allow to break. He hasn't told anyone about the ultimate price he'll have to pay to fight, but he thinks they'll be fine. They know him, they understand him. They'll know why he has to die (he hopes they will, when the time comes), and if his knowledge of them is true, then he also knows that they'll live on with their heads held high afterwards.

He smiles as he watches Yukari and Junpei bicker, like they used to. His classmates have long since stopped talking about him behind his back (at least not to his knowledge) now, so the only sounds that surround him are their everyday chatters. The falling snow and the decorations of lights and shining papers signal the coming of Christmas, making the atmosphere light and welcoming.

He waits until Tomochika drags Junpei out and into the unknown before walking up to her (his sun), his bag tugs under his armpit. When she turns, she's smiling, radiantly so. He smiles back before saying. "It's kind of a last minute, but do you want to celebrate Christmas together?"

She hums. "You don't need to ask that, you know. But we have to return before 8 pm, or else Aragaki-senpai will really lay into us."

He chuckles, remembering himself trying to help the man plan out the Christmas dinner. He wanted to help, he really did, but Shinjirou just kind of kicked him out and dragged Sanada into helping him, instead. He's caring, in his own way, that's certain. He then nods, "Of course. It's not like we're planning on a ski trip or anything. It's just hanging out at Paulownia Mall."

"True enough," She says, reaching her hand to his left and takes it in hers. She then tugs it out of his pocket and entwines their fingers. "But as long as it's with you, then I'm okay with it."

"And you always called me sappy," He teases. She pouts a little at that before pinching his arm with her free hand, making him yelp a little. "Ow!"

"Serves you right," She says as she drags him along. "Now come on! We don't have a minute to waste!"

She doesn't know it, but that last sentence hits home; he isn't quite sure when he has to die, but it's not too far off. Every last minute he has left _counts_.

There're so many promises he'll have to break, so many things he'll have to left unfinished, so many words left unsaid. He regrets leaving like this, but he doesn't lament leaving _for_ them. He wouldn't have minded it, even if they would hate him and curse him for it, for bringing them pain. If they get the chance to live a minute, a day, a month, a year longer than he could, then he'll be fine being spat upon.

But now, now he's still alive, he's still here. Every second _counts_ , and right now, he can at least make sure that they'll all be happy with his own two hands.

And he'll not let a single second goes to waste.

* * *

All they're doing now is waiting for Ryoji to come.

Aigis… she's _human_ , both her heart and soul, and he's _glad_ she now has a reason to live for herself — not for the sake of the SEES' orders or for _his_ sake, but her own. She's also an irreplaceable life, much like everyone else is, whether she knows it or not. And now that they've all found their answers, there is no more need to talk about the decisions. They've all made theirs, and so has he.

He's sitting in the lounge, with his friends (his _home_ ) by his side, quietly chatting among themselves about nothing and everything. He tightens his grip on Yukari's hand a little, earning himself a soft smile, before he lets go and stands up, drawing the SEES' attentions to himself. He only smiles as the door creaks open, and before long, the figure he both dreads to see and misses so much walk through it.

Ryoji raises a hand, smiling sadly. "Good evening, all of you."

Quiet greetings are exchanged before Ryoji ( _Death_ ) walks over and sits down on the sofa at the head of the coffee table. Those blue eyes then look his way, and he only gives him a smile and a shrug. He could see pain in those pair of shimmering sapphire that are always so _kind_ , so warm, before Ryoji wipes it away and replaces it with a knowing look and a smile.

"I see you've all reached your decision," He says, his eyes slowly look at each and every one of them. They all nod, one by one. Finally, his gaze lands back on Makoto. "So there's no need for me to wait anymore, huh? What a shame."

"Shame my ass," Shinjirou says with a snort. "It just means we wanna live more, asshole. We've got no need for the Fall that wanna come down on its own. We're gonna fight, and we sure as hell are gonna win."

Unlike when he talked with Makoto the first time, he doesn't say that it's impossible anymore, only looking at him with a pained gaze. While acquiring the miracle is still _uncertain_ , it seems like Ryoji thinks he'll be able to pull it off (he hopes so, too). The boy just sighs, but he's smiling. "Alright. Your lives are yours to live, so I'll respect your decisions. There's still time before midnight, so… would you mind if I have a private talk with Makoto for a little? And then I'll tell you all how to face Nyx afterwards."

At that, they all look dumbstruck, unsure. He gives them a small nod before making his way towards the stairs. "It's fine, it's not like he's going to hurt me or anything. We'll be right back."

"…If you're sure," Kirijou says, nodding. "Just don't take too long, okay?"

He hums. "Of course."

He leads Ryoji up the steps, the other boy silent, the air around him seems to be vibrating with tension. Once they reach his room, the two of them sit down on his bed. It reminds him of Pharos' many visits, before the Full Moon Shadows were defeated.

Ryoji speaks up first. "Makoto—"

"If you're trying to convince me to kill you, then stop, because I'm _not_ going to," He says before Ryoji has the chance to finish. He knows the look in his eyes, he knows how the boy thinks. When Ryoji looks away, he just smiles and grabs his cold hand. "Even if it's still uncertain, I'm going to fight, and I'll make sure to grab that miracle, no matter what."

There is a pause, short yet spanning to near infinity, before his Death lets out a short laugh. "I should've known that you'd catch me. Alright, if you're sure, then I won't be saying anything else about it."

He hums softly. "But that isn't the only thing you want to talk to me about."

"No," Ryoji affirms, hiding half of his face under the folds of his scarf. He seems to be wording his mind, and before long, he's whispering. "Makoto, I… we'll have to fight. I'll return to being the thirteenth Shadow, Death, and we'll have to fight, and I'll be fighting to _kill_. I—"

"—Don't want to hurt me, I know," He finishes, his fingers carefully curling around Ryoji's soft, cold hand, before he continues. "I don't enjoy the idea. But, as I said, you simply _are_. I can't hold a grudge against you."

"…Why?"

"Because you don't really have a choice in this, do you?" He asks. "Still, you chose to tell us what you are, what you'll be doing, what we'll have to fight against. These are the things you didn't even need to tell us, yet, you did. Why is that?"

"…You deserve to know," Ryoji says, voice low, eyes on the ground. "It's the least I can do for all of you."

He smiles. "The choices that you can make, you make it for our sakes. So instead of cursing you, or blaming you for things you can't even control… I'm going to _thank_ you."

He looks about to cry again. "I'm so sorry."

Makoto decides to borrow something Yukari said a good while back, and he places his hand on Ryoji's shoulder as he speaks softly. "It's not something you should be apologizing for. And for telling me—us—all of these, I thank you. And I'm _proud_ of you."

He then pulls Ryoji ( _his Death, his shadow_ ) into a hug as the boy cries his heart out again.

 _It matters not what you are. You're Mochizuki Ryoji, and I'm proud to call you my friend_.

* * *

"Nyx will descend exactly one month from now. The next Full Moon, January 31st, with Tartarus as the beacon, and I, the Appriser."

They listen intently as he tells them every little details there is to know, from how to confront Nyx to what can one expect. Unsurprisingly, he's not saying that the Fall is unpreventable anymore, only that defeating Nyx is impossible. Makoto silently thanks Ryoji for not telling the others what he has to do, because they'll waste their time and maybe their lives finding an alternative that doesn't exist if he does.

The clocks ticks slowly, and midnight is approaching. Once he's done explaining, Ryoji gets up, dusting his pants a little. "I should be going now. I still want to say goodbye to you while I'm still like this, you see."

Junpei laughs. "That's just so you, man."

"I hope you'll be able to carry out the miracle you all seek," Ryoji says with a small smile. And he knows the boy is addressing _him_ , with how he falters a little upon looking his way. "Happy New Year, guys. Hope the best for you all."

"Death my ass," Shinjirou says as he gets up, and before he knows it the older boy has already pats Ryoji's head, ruffling his hair ever so slightly, earning himself a yelp. "You sure don't act like one."

"Thank you for everything, Ryoji," Sanada says with a smile. "When we meet next, we'll have to fight. But know that you're still a friend."

Ryoji looks genuinely taken aback, and his face grows even wilder when Amada hugs him. Ryoji takes a moment then says. "I'll miss you, all of you."

"We'll miss you, too," Yamagishi says, waving her hand ever so slightly. "Happy New Year, Ryoji-kun."

"…Thank you," He mumbles as he looks at Aigis. "I'm sorry for all the pain I caused you, Aigis."

Aigis simply shakes her head. "I understand. And know that I view you as my enemy… and my friend."

Makoto glances at Yukari and Junpei, and after they nod their heads, he gets up and hugs Ryoji hard just one more time, making the boy yelps in surprise.

He pats his back and murmurs. "Farewell, Ryoji."

There is a pause, and then Ryoji hugs him back, hands cold and trembling. "…Farewell, Makoto."

Ryoji is crying, and he resists the urge to tease him as he gives them all one last smile before walking out of the door, his eyes sad yet free of whatever burden he used to carry before. The clock strikes midnight, and as they sky turns green, there is a howl that's so close yet far enough away echoing throughout the still air.

After a moment of silence, he turns to the others, and they're looking at him almost expectantly. He isn't even sure why they still have him as their leader, but he's not going to question it; the time to ask such inquiry has long since past. They trust him, and he'd trust them with his own life. He smiles, "Now then. We have a god to defeat, ladies and gentlemen."

"Hell yeah!" Junpei cheers. "Means we gotta train, right? But that can wait! We gotta celebrate new year first!"

"Dude, your priority is fucking mixed up," Shinjirou sighs, shaking his head. He takes a few seconds more before murmuring. "So… Naganaki Shrine?"

Sanada laughs while Kirijou shakes her head and says, "And you _just_ told him his priority is strange. You're the same."

"Shut it, Mitsuru, I know you _four_ girls have your Kimonos ready for tomorrow, and don't _deny_ it!" He counters. Kirijou splutters and turns a little red at that.

Makoto blinks before turning to Yukari. "You haven't told me this."

Her cheeks are a little pink. "I wanna surprise you."

"Aragaki-san, you ruined Takeba-san's surprise," Is what he hears Amada says. The boy is _scrutinizing_ Shijirou, now (it's a pretty funny sight). "You suck."

"Kid, shut the fuck up," Shinjirou growls.

He smiles at the light atmosphere, any remaining doubts long since gone from their features. They're all ready to take their futures into their own hands, and he'll be there to see it through.

He feels soft, warm hand grabbing onto his, and he turns to see Yukari smiling up at him.

Yeah. They'll be just fine.

Their futures, their lives… are his to protect, and theirs to live.

And now? He thinks he _can_ , and he definitely _will_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter, my guys and gals, are 12k long. 12k! I do not know why I did that, but eh, more contents for you, yey? I guess?
> 
> We're nearing the end, everyone. The angst is going to get heavier, and for that, I apologize in advance?
> 
> Also there's a little hint about a complicated relationship here. Can you spot them, I wonder? ;D
> 
> Alrite, see you in a few!


	22. XX: The Judgement Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cherry blossom tree in the morning without its signature pinkish petals is a bit strange, but the sight of the city rivals even that from Gekkoukan's roof, the soft snow and the bright sunlight making the view as breathtaking as his smile. She hums, gripping his hand just a little bit tighter.
> 
> "It's beautiful, isn't it?" He says quietly, with puffs of frigid air accompanying his words.
> 
> "It is," She hums. "It would be nice if I get to be here during spring."
> 
> "Don't worry," He murmurs. "Spring will come."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING AT THE MIDDLE OF THE CHAPTER
> 
> You could probably tell when it's going to start cuz the beginning of it is pretty brazen, so if you do not want to read, skip to the next break line. It does not contain much significance to the story except for being, well, smut, and source of Fuuka's unrelenting teasing.
> 
> So... Judgement! 12k words, people! Have fun!

**_XX: The Judgement Day_ **

_Judgement: Reflection, Reckoning, Awakening_

_Reversed Judgement: Doubt, Lack of Self Awareness, Failure to Learn_

* * *

**_The Lovers_ **

The morning of the New Year is somehow freer than any day of the year prior.

She loves the cool air and the soft atmosphere. She loves how they're all choosing to live on their own terms. She thinks they'll be just fine. Whatever miracle there is they need to pull off, she's certain they'll be able to.

She's with the other girls downstairs, already in their Kimonos. It seems like something good happened between Mitsuru and Sanada, since things seem to be kicking off for them, now. Fuuka's starting to tease not just Yukari alone, and she feels both pity for the heiress and the _joy_ of having herself another person to use as buffer. Makoto doesn't know this as much as she does, of course, but Fuuka can be pretty… _creative_ poking fun at people.

Did Junpei rub off on her or something?

They stop when they hear footsteps. The boys walk down in groups, with both Makoto and Sanada stopping cold on the steps and staring at her and Mitsuru, respectively. Makoto is the first to recover, walking over and smiling warmly, his gloved hands (because people staring makes him more paranoid than usual) finding hers.

"You look beautiful," He whispers carefully.

"Flatterer," She hums, forcing the dust of pink away as soon as she catches Fuuka giggling at her. "Well, if we're all here, then why don't we head to the shrine together already?"

"Good idea," Aragaki says. "It's still early, so I think there's not gonna be many people there."

"Right," Sanada mumbles. She spies Mitsuru going a bit red, and when the heiress catches her and her raised brows, she quickly looks away.

"…When did they start dating?" She wonders to no one in particular, smiling to herself. They're even more awkward than Makoto is, and that's saying something.

To her surprise, Makoto _actually_ knows about this? Before her? Somehow? "A while, I think maybe right after Ryoji revealed himself. You saw them in the kitchen together, didn't you?"

… _Oh_.

"You're observant to the point of being _stalkerish_ , you know," She says, jabbing his belly lightly, and he moves out of the way a little at that. "It's creepy as hell, Makoto."

He shrugs.

After a few more minutes of quiet _Happy New Year_ and whatever else, everyone in the SEES set out towards Naganaki shrine. She keeps his hand in hers, absently kneading it, while he matches his usually quick pace to her slower ones. She smiles a little and tightens the grip on his hand lightly once before letting go and jogging over to the girls.

"So," She hears Fuuka says, her voice _mischievous._ Uh-oh, she knows where this is going. "…I didn't know you and Sanada-senpai were a thing."

Mitsuru's face matches her hair color perfectly, and she finds it quite hilarious. But she's been in that position before, so she gets between the two of them and nudges Fuuka. "Don't grill her about it, Fuuka, that's just _rude_."

"I see," Aigis suddenly says. "So that is why I saw you and Sanada-san alone together after the Dark Hour in the kitchen yesterday."

Yukari splutters, Mitsuru looks like she wants to hide under the concrete, and Fuuka's giggling wildly.

" _Aigis!_ " Mitsuru snaps. "We didn't see you—"

" _We_ , not _I_ ," Fuuka comments.

A groan. "Yamagishi, please, _stop_ , my face can't take more of this."

"Better get used to it, Senpai," She consoles her by patting her shoulder lightly. "She did this to me and Makoto before… and she's not going to stop. Like. Ever?"

"Teasing Yuuki-kun isn't as fun, but his reaction _is_ adorable," Fuuka hums, smiling gently. "But you're funnier. He just blushes a little, sometimes, but you goes as red as Kirijou-senpai most of the time, so..."

She sighs. "Yes. This, exactly. Did Junpei rub off on you or something?"

Mitsuru laughs a little as the navigator shakes her head with a gentle smile. "You're much more open than you used to be, Yamagishi."

"I guess," She hums. "I have Yuuki-kun to thank for that, too."

Oh, yeah. He did tell her something about teaching Fuuka how to cook together with Aragaki, hadn't he?

The heiress smiles as she murmurs. "He's good at listening and helping people, that is certain. Each of us have something to thank him for, do we not?"

Yukari only laughs. "Yeah. We do."

* * *

She catches Makoto praying at the shrine, hands together, eyes closed.

She walks over to stand beside him and waits for him to open his eyes. When he does, she snugs her hand into the crook of his elbow and leans on him a little before murmuring. "What did you wish for?"

"Secret," He says, and chuckles when he sees the pout on her face. She shoves him a little before putting her hand together to pray. After a moment, he confesses, "For us to win."

"Kinda cliché. Oh well," She shrugs. Truth be told, though, she is going to wish for the same thing, for them to win, and for them to see the days beyond this spring. "Not like I'm going to wish for something different."

He waits patiently beside her until she's finished, and when she does, he offers her his hand. The glove looks much like Sanada's, same color, same material and even same shine. The only difference seems to be the size. When she takes it, he leads her away and towards the same path they took to watch the fireworks all those months ago.

She spies the others splitting themselves into small groups, quietly talking and laughing a little, their hopes and spirits high. She smiles; it seems like they won't have to worry about their mental states anymore, only physical ones. She then turns to Makoto as he leads her up the hills, his hand still loosely grabbing onto hers, a gentle smile on his lips as they trudge through the path in silence.

The cherry blossom tree in the morning without its signature pinkish petals is a bit strange, but the sight of the city rivals even that from Gekkoukan's roof, the soft snow and the bright sunlight making the view as breathtaking as his smile. She hums, gripping his hand just a little bit tighter.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" He says quietly, with puffs of frigid air accompanying his words.

"It is," She hums. "It would be nice if I get to be here during spring."

"Don't worry," He murmurs. "Spring _will_ come."

He says with confidence. She feels like something's a bit off, but isn't given the time to think on it when he puts his hand over her cheek, his thumb touching her lips carefully. He leans over until their foreheads touched, his lips merely a finger breadth away from hers. She blinks before giggling a little as she closes her eyes.

"If you say so," She murmurs against his warm breath. She could feel his other arm snaking around her waist and pulling her a bit closer. Then, an idea strikes her. "Hey, why don't we all make some kind of promises? So that we'll be able to remember the others even after Nyx is defeated?"

"I'm listening," He murmurs, pulling back slightly. His smile is always so gentle, his eyes infinitely kind, his hands tender and careful. He pulls his hand away and resting it on the wisteria hairpin he had bought her a few months back. Even with color difference, it still goes along well with the kimono. And it's something _he_ bought for her, so there's no way in hell she won't use it.

She grins a little. "First, let's promise that we'd come here, to see the cherry blossoms once this is all over, jus the two of us. How does that sound?"

Something changes in his expression, but it goes away as soon as it comes. He takes a moment before nodding once, a thin smile on his lips. "Alright, let's do that. What about the rest?"

"We'll have to talk with them, but I think meeting up again on Graduation Day sounds like a solid idea," She hums, a finger on her chin. "It's quite an easy date to remember."

"Let's bring that up to the others when we got home then," He says, kissing her forehead lightly, his hand finding hers, grasping it. "Do you want to stay here a while longer?"

"I mean, why not?"

They spend maybe twenty or so minutes sitting there in silence, his hand in her lap, mimicking the night of the summer festival. The only sounds she could still hear are the wind and the leaves and the ruffling of clothes as she shifts closer to him. She glances his way to see Makoto closing his eyes, his face tipping slightly upwards, a serene smile on his lips, so gentle, so warm.

She rests her head on his shoulder, and hears him breathes out louder than necessary, as if to say that he doesn't mind it. He then interlaces their fingers carefully, the rough fabric of his glove a strange sensation on her hand. Still, the warmth of his palm still seeps through it, so she doesn't care. She lets him kisses her fingertips a little before murmuring.

"Do you think we'll win?"

His answer is immediate. And if she has been in a less lovely atmosphere, or alone, or with someone who's objective, she might've noticed that there is something that doesn't sit quite right in the way he talks. "Don't ever doubt it."

"I believe you," She says, snuggling just a little closer to his frame. "I wonder if we'll lose our memories immediately or later on. Or when we'll regain it."

He laughs a little, freer than ever before. "Does it matter? Even if we lose them, I think… the bonds we've made would still be there. Even if we don't remember, we could always recreate our friendships again."

"True," She agrees. "But I don't want to forget any of the SEES. Especially not you."

"Neither do I," He whispers, leaning his head on her own a little. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, I suppose."

"Yeah."

That is something they'll worry about later.

For now, they have lives to live, the world to see, and a fight to prepare for.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Yoshino Chidori is alive.

Junpei cries so hard that his eyes are all swollen and funny, but she thinks it's for the best. And now that the miracle's happened, they're all convinced that defeating Nyx is no longer an impossible feat.

She spies Makoto hanging out with Junpei as the latter gushes about Yoshino. Despite her losing her memories of him, he's undeterred. She's reminded of what Makoto told her; about him being the Magician Arcana. It's actually very fitting, especially in this situation. She smiles as she makes her way over to them and sits down beside Makoto, her hands absently finding his again.

They spent maybe an hour or so talking and listening to Junpei, and when he's finally done saying what he wants to, they just loiter about, resting, preparing mentally. The news about Yoshino's survival seems to have a lot of positive effects on everyone, even Aragaki, and the timing is just so right.

After there's no one left but the two of them in the lounge, she pulls his arm around her and snuggles just a little bit closer. He hums, smiling gently, and holds her just a little tighter. Then, he says, "I'm happy for Junpei. This is the kind of miracle that makes us realize our choice is right."

"Mhm," She hums, her hand resting on his knee. "I'm sure he'll fight extra hard just to carry this out, for our sakes, and for _hers_."

"True," He chuckles. "Now I just can't let him one-up me now, can I?"

"I've never thought you to be the competitive type," She says, pulling back a little and eyeing him. His steel gray eyes that's cold yet unbelievably warm are so, so _beautiful_. "Guess you've got sides I still can't expect, huh?"

"Don't sound so dejected," He laughs. "I don't even realize I'm like this until a few months ago."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying."

They exchange a few playful banters, and before long the clock's ticking towards midnight. She grumbles a little; the Dark Hour always makes things weird, and she doesn't like the feeling of staying awake during one. Still, if it's with him, then she guesses it's kind of okay.

Then there's sounds from the stairs, and both of them turn to see Sanada and Mitsuru walking down, talking to each other, seemingly _closer_ than they were before. When the two see them, they go a little red, but Makoto just smiles and waves them over. Mitsuru seems unusually red and a bit embarrassed, but Sanada is quick enough to prevent her escape and drag her towards the lounge.

"How's it going for you guys?" Yukari asks as they sit down opposite from her. Makoto shifts a little so that he'd be about to sit a little straighter. She regrets the loss of his warmth, so she takes his hand in hers instead. He doesn't say anything about it.

"Pretty good, I guess," Sanada mumbles. "You?"

"Great," She hums, leaning a little forward. "Mitsuru-senpai… you're still pretty red, huh?"

"Shut _up_ , Yukari, don't be Yamagishi 2.0, please," The heiress moans, burying her face into her hands.

"Sorry," She says, giggling lightly. After a moment of comfortable silence, in which she revels in the feeling of Makoto's hand squeezing hers lightly, the feeling of his callous, scarred skin on hers and the warmth of his fingers, she murmurs. "Are you guys nervous?"

"Yeah," Sanada hums. "Anyone would be. Well, except you, Yuuki, since _nothing_ seems to faze you anymore, huh?"

"I guess," He says with a small shrug. "Although, I'm still kind of worried… I know we'll be able to carry it out, but I want to make sure all of you will survive."

" _We_ will," Yukari says firmly, tightening her grip on him. "We will carry it out, and all of _us_ will live."

"Yukari's right," Mitsuru says with a small nod. "We will, and then we'll meet again on Graduation Day, like we've promised."

Makoto seems to ponder on the words for a while. It isn't like he's doubtful, but something bothers him. She's been seeing that for a while now, and while it's true that he's lied to her — them — before, there is no indication of him lying by omission this time; Ryoji did tell them all they need to know, after all. Then again, he had confessed before that he's still nervous, even if he's confident in their victory, so she guesses it's just jitters; he's known for being pessimistic as all hell. Although, something's nagging at the back of her mind. What, though? She isn't quite sure, but it isn't a good feeling. It's the same as before he's shot, where shivers are running up and down her spine and dread is crawling and pawing at the back of her mind.

She shakes her head, getting rid of the thoughts, before smiling at him. He smiles back, his eyes so soft and warm, gentle like spring. She resists the urge to kiss him right here and leans into his shoulder instead, their fingers deeply intertwined. "We definitely will. I want to see past this spring, and the next, and the next, too."

"We're as ready as we can be," Sanada comments. Yukari could _feel_ the reluctance in his movement, but his hands are gentler than she used to see as he takes Mitsuru's hand, squeezing it lightly, before letting go. "I agree with you not planning any more Tartarus training until the promised day, Yuuki. We need as much rest as we can, and it's not like a week of training would make much difference anyway."

Makoto just shrugs, and she yelps a little in protest. He apologizes with a quick pat to her head. "Yeah. We'll discuss the strategy on the morning of the 31st, since it's Sunday. We'll have plenty of time to plan then."

He seems to stop himself from saying _something_ , something she isn't quite sure what. He hides it very well. Although she sees no frown on his face and no tenseness in his shoulders. When he snorts a laughter, mostly to himself, she tilts her head. "What?"

"Nothing much, I'm just thinking whether we should cook for you before or after the fight. I just realized now that either choices are pretty terrible."

"…Huh, yeah, you'll either be too stuffed to fight or too tired to not nod off into the bowl," Sanada chuckles, and Yukari huffs slightly.

"You worry about the strangest things and the weirdest times, you know," She says, rolling her eyes.

Makoto smiles, but says nothing more.

Mitsuru only smiles before she murmurs quietly. "I'll relay the gathering on the 31st to the others later. Enjoy the rest of the month, you two."

"You too, Senpai."

* * *

The first thing he does when he closes the door behind him is to kiss her, without even bothering to turn on the lights.

His hands are tangled in her hair, pulling, tugging, a bit more forceful than he used to be. She's left breathless as he advances, an untold hunger in the way he moves, his lips still careful and tender, but intense unlike his usual conduct. He pushes her further back until she feels the bed hitting the back of her knees, and then she's falling onto the mattress, with his lips still on hers, his breath hot, his hands firm, his chest heaving.

She isn't given the chance to ask what's gotten into him as he kisses downward, nibbling oh-so-carefully down her jawline, sending sparks of anticipation across her skin. His tongue tracing the skin of her neck is sending her thoughts haywire, and she moans, nails digging deep through the fabric of his cloths. She yelps when she feels the dull hardness of his teeth on her skin, marking her ever so gently, and shivers when she feels his rough hands caressing her thighs. Open mouth kisses are peppered lower until he's met with the edge of her off-the-shoulder dress, and he pulls back, his breaths coming out in pants, faint puffs of smoke accompanying each exhalation like fogs in the morning.

She sits up, her face hot and her breaths faster than she has thought. She looks at him, at his eyes that's hiding something, at the brows that's slightly furrowed, at his mouth – that was, just a moment ago, setting her skin on fire like blazing tongue dancing across the surface of oil – and at his hands, slightly trembling an unsure, while just a minute ago they've been so bold, so demanding.

"Makoto?" She whispers as their frantic breathings settle down. He looks away as he pulls his body off hers and sits down on the bed, his lips set into a thin line. She frowns slightly as she reaches over, cupping his cheeks in both of her hands. She isn't sure why he's reluctant _now_ , when he seems to be so sure just moments prior. "Makoto, I really won't mind you continuing. What's wrong?"

She's unusually bold, she knows, but she's thought about this for a while now. The end of the world is upon them, and while he's promised to see spring together with all of them, there're still chances that… not everyone will come out of it alive, slim as they may be. And when she thinks hard about it, she wouldn't have minded doing it with him. She loves him, unconditionally, deeply, almost to the point of that love being unhealthy. But she doesn't care.

She loves him. She wants to make him happy, correcting the wrongs in his life, as much as her humanly power would allow. He means so much to her, and have done so many things for her, that she wouldn't have minded one bit if it is with him. The thought even makes her happy. And while she's not... brave enough to initiate, she would gladly follow his lead.

"What if…" He begins, his voice rough and unsteady, his hands over hers, lightly grasping them. "What if one of us… what if _I_ don't survive? I don't want you to regret doing it."

"I won't," She says firmly. "I won't, I promise. I want it to be you. You promised you'd live, and I believe you will, but— _if_ the worst comes to pass, I won't regret it. Not now, not ever."

He lets out a laughter that rings like wind chime, that's bright and childish, yet still a bit reserved and controlled. He has always been this way; in control of his expressions, even when his emotions are raging. "I don't want you to regret anything. I know I won't, but you might."

"I could never regret spending time with you," She smiles, pressing her lips softly on his, pulling him into another passionate lip-lock with her arms around his neck. She draws him back down on top of her, their legs tangling, their bodies firm against one another's. After she breaks the kiss, more due to necessity rather than will, she murmurs against his lips. "So please… don't run away from me now. I'm right here, and I'm with you."

He smiles as he pulls back a little again, this time with his hand on the button of his winter coat. He then unbuttons them slowly. "Then… I'll be in your care."

He pulls the coat off and discards it onto the floor before diving back down for her lips again, and she hums into his mouth, her hand absently tracing his chest through his turtleneck, feeling the toned muscles and the scars through the thick fabric. After a moment, she reaches for the hem of his shirt and snakes her cold hands under it, making him hisses into the kiss.

She giggles as she runs her hands across the bare skin, eliciting shaky groans out of him. He kisses down her neck and unclasps the choker with a hand and his teeth, the feeling of his warm breath and soft lips against her skin as he undoes the choker sending her head into a bit of a haze. She tries to focus before reaching for the buckles of his belt and pulls at it until it comes off, then throws it away, followed by the wristwatch she doesn't even know he has been removing.

The absence of light in the room except for the ones from the street lamps outside might or might not have made the both of them exceptionally brazen, but she couldn't complain, with the pleasant, almost addicting feelings of his touches more than worth it. She could feel something in the pit of her stomach, hot and pleasant, as his warm fingers go under the hem of her shirt and ghost along her abs.

After a grunt of annoyance, his hand is on the zipper, and before she knows it, her dress _and_ her bra are already off her body. She almost yelps, but stops when she sees him pulls his shirt over his head in one graceful motion. He then tosses the garment to the floor and kisses her again, slower, gentler this time.

"There's no going back after this, Yukari," He murmurs against her lips as he unclasps her skirt, fingers curling over the edge. "If you want to sto—"

"I don't," She says firmly, putting a hand over his cheek, caressing the area under his eye with her thumb. She smiles and leans up to meet his lips halfway. His reply is as gentle as he comes, so soft and tender, but not afraid. The kiss is careful, slow, and loving, just like how he is. "You don't have to ask again. I'm not backing down."

He smiles. "I see."

He lets her hands roam his marred skin, brushing and patting at scars large and small, making him shiver just minutely. He sighs into the kiss, seemingly content, before he pulls her skirt off, his action too slow for her liking. He kisses the inside of her thigh softly while his hand draws absent circles on the other, making her skin tingle, and she lets out a shaky breath to calm herself down.

Her hands instinctively grab onto her pantie as he attempts to pull it down, and she could feel her face burning up in embarrassment – and _excitement_ – at the prospect of him seeing, well, _all_ of her. They just look at each other for an eternity and a half before he chuckles at her, and she pouts a little. He just hums, kissing her thigh again, before pulling the last piece of cloth on her body off.

She isn't given much time to think on it when he buries his face between her legs, his tongue expertly setting her nerves on fire, and she's biting her lip to stop the moans from getting too loud. Even if their rooms are soundproof, there's no telling whether her loud, unabashed cries of pleasure would escape the confines of the wall or not, and she'd rather not risk it.

Her hands find their ways into his hair, tugging and pulling him ever closer, his breath tickling every bit of her already sensitive skin, his callous and scarred hands gripping and massaging her thighs help little to stop her muscles from cramping up and her toes from curling. She's halfway over the edge when he stops and pulls back, and she looks down to see him _smirking_ , licking his lips teasingly.

She groans. "Come on, don't do this to me."

He laughs as he rubs the back of his neck with his left hand. She couldn't see his other hand, but feels it resting on her inner thigh, finger drawing little lines to ease her up a little. "Your legs were killing my neck. I still want my vertebrae unbroken, thank you."

"You jer— _ah!_ " She yelps when she feels his fingers touching her, and before she knows it, she's already squirming under his careful ministrations _._ A part of her really, _really_ wants him to go about this a little bit faster, but… well, this is _him_. Being slow and careful is his nature. She still couldn't help it, though, and mumbles, a hand over her mouth, trying to muffle the occasional moans. "Come on!"

"I know, I know," He hums, leaning in to kiss her as he pushes in a finger, careful and light. She's on fire in the most pleasant way possible, and she arches her back into him, her arms circling around his torso, pulling him closer, harder, nails clawing at his back and digging deep into his arm as he adds another digit with even more care than before. He doesn't pause, but holds back a little still. "You okay?"

"Yeah," She says, her voice a bit higher than intended. She breathes and tries to relax, finding herself pulling him down into a kiss again. He hums, keeping the kiss light while she's squirming under him, trying to adjust. After a moment, he pulls away, and only now does she notice that— "Seriously? You're still not _naked_ after all of this?"

"…Sorry?" He says, a sheepish smile on his lips. She blushes when he purposefully licks his fingers clean – he _must_ have been, that subtly devious look is unmistakable. He then climbs off his trousers and underwear in one go, and her blush deepens when she sees just how _aroused_ he is. He simply smiles before reaching for the bedside drawer.

Again, she isn't sure what she supposes would've happened, but… "Why do you have a condom ready?"

"Your offhand comment about sex during dinner a week ago," He says (as if that explains everything) (It does _not_ ), ripping the package off the condom ( _you're way too prepared for this!_ ) with his teeth. When she gives him a stink eye, he just shrugs. "Let me be hopeful sometimes."

"You're actually a pretty pervert guy, huh."

"Don't lump me in with Junpei, thank you," He says quickly, earning himself a giggle from her. He shuts her up (effectively so) with a deep kiss that makes her breathless and sets her lungs alight. She pulls him in until their bodies are flush against each other's, her fingers ghosting along his spine. After a while, he straightens up and nestles between her legs, hands firm on her thighs. "You ready?"

"Mhm," She hums.

The tinge of pain is accompanied by the pleasure, the warmth and the fullness of the act making her moan and her mind a bit of a mess. Her breaths quicken slightly, and her nails are deep into his shoulders. He doesn't flinch nor pull away, perhaps too used to the pain, but she's glad he remains there, steadfast. She bites her lip slightly, brows furrowed, legs tense.

He stays perfectly still, his face full of concern, a hand on the side to support his body weight while the other is on her cheek, his thumb caressing the skin gently, as if to help her adjust. She grips his shoulders a little tighter, whimpering a little as she does. She smiles at him once that little bit of pain is gone and kisses his cheek, hands releasing the tight grip on his skin, urging him to continue.

He grips her hips with one hand before moving slowly, the sparks in her nerves amplified by his guttural growls of pleasure, quiet as they may be. She kisses him to drown out her own moans of pure bliss, her tongue sloppy as she tries (and fails) to deepen the kiss. She could _feel_ him smirking a little, but isn't given the time to dwell on it as he picks up the speed of his movements, still careful and gentle, but now with a little more irregularity.

Her senses are overwhelmed by rapture, her body tenses and aches as his hand finds hers, their fingers interlace, keeping her somewhat grounded. His lips are at the pulse point on her neck, biting, licking, kissing, setting off chains of explosions along her spine that makes her moans just a little louder. She puts her hand on his cheek, pulling him off the crook of her neck for just a second before pulling him down into a sloppy, breathless kiss as she's being sent over the edge.

They climax together, the jolts of lightning that runs through every inch of her skin overpowering her brain for a few moments, making her see white and feel nothing but bliss. After the peak of their ecstasies comes the soothing calm, their hot breaths slowing down, their heaving chests less noticeable. He steals one more kiss from her before pulling away, letting her catch her breath as he peppers loving kisses across her skin in places she doesn't know could feel that good.

His lips reach back up to her forehead before he leans a bit back, steel gray eyes so warm and gentle, his touch still as careful as he is. He then whispers. "You good?"

"Better than good," She says, immediately flipping them over, with her straddling his lap. He yelps at that, but she ignores it as she puts both her hands on his chest, scarred but nonetheless beautiful. "You know, the night's still pretty young. Not to mention that it's Sunday tomorrow."

He blinks stupidly for a second before a laughter bubbles out of his chest, rumbling lowly, but still so _gratifying_ to hear. "And you said I'm the perverted one."

She rolls her eyes. "Just shut up and kiss me."

He doesn't say another word as she leans down to press her lips against his again, and again, and again.

* * *

She stirs awake, arm draped over his torso, her face against his chest that's rising and falling slowly, softly.

Yukari lets out a hum and stifles a yawn the best she could, her hand instinctively tracing the scars on his chest and abs, drawing lines and mapping him out, like she'd always do. She glances up to see him still sleeping, breath even and slow, puffs of air tickling her hair ever so slightly. She giggles to herself as she holds him just a tiny bit harder, hoping to rouse him from his slumber.

And rouse him she does, with Makoto groaning lowly, his chest rumbling against her ear. After a moment, he breathes out. "Good morning."

"Morning," She replies, kissing the bit of skin that's scarred red on his chest. "So… I had fun yesterday."

He laughs a little at that. "Me too."

They let silence blanket the air around them for a while, with the only sounds being him pulling the cover higher, tugging her shoulders under it, keeping her warm from the chill air of winter. She hums again, content, and grabs his hand with hers. He recuperates, squeezing her fingers gently, kissing her knuckles softly, like he'd always do.

He presses her hand on his chest, letting her feel his heart beating underneath her palm, the slow, rhythmic thumping always so soothing. He then kisses the crown of her head, always so affectionate, so kind. "Do you want to do anything today?"

"Not that I can think off, no," She murmurs. "But… I probably shouldn't stay here with you forever. While I want to… Fuuka's really going to tease the hell outta me if she notices."

"Chances are, she probably already does?" He says. When she looks up at him, confused, he points at his bedside clock, the needles— "It's 10 am."

She sighs, exasperated. "Holy shit."

"Don't worry, you're not the only one who's going to get a few friendly comments out of our little escapades yesterday," He whispers, amused. She just grumbles, so he pinches her nose a little, playfully. "But yeah, we should get up. Hungry?"

"No," She says, to which her stomach immediately protests with a loud growl. She blushes. "Okay, fine, _yes_ , I'm starving."

"I'll cook for us, then," He chuckles, untangling himself from her (she whines a little at the lost) before getting up, stretching his arms over his head slightly. "We should take a shower first, though."

"Yeah," She says. Before he gets out of bed, however, she pulls at his arm, stopping him. When he looks back, she kisses his cheek lightly, giggling at his slightly pink-dusted cheek. "Love you."

He smiles. "Love you more."

She dresses up with her pajamas he's always kept in his room (as careful as only he could be, and she really appreciates it) and walks up the steps, yawning. She's tired, in the best of ways possible, and sticky as all hell. Once she reaches the third floor, she's greeted by a _smirking_ Fuuka, a red Mitsuru, and a puzzled Aigis. She just eyes them carefully. Before she could say anything, Fuuka hums. "Congratulations."

"Fuuka, _shut up_ ," She moans. Then, a pause. "Wait… did you hear?"

"…The woods might be soundproof, but they're, unfortunately, not impact-proof," Is all Mitsuru manages through the deepening redness of her cheeks as she sips on her tea.

…Shit.

"…Did we, like, wake you guys up or something?"

"Not really, but it made me feel like a bit of a voyeur," Fuuka says, looking off to the right.

Yukari rolls her eyes. "Aren't you one already? Uh… no offense."

"Some taken," Fuuka points out, giggling. Aigis just looks so lost she's not going to even _begin_ to try to educate her on this matter. Like, ever. After a pause, the navigator just giggles and returns her attention to the notebook before her. "Don't let me keep you, Yukari-chan. You're probably starving right now."

"Yeah," She sighs. "Afternoon, Fuuka, Aigis, Mitsuru-senpai."

She quickly grabs all the things necessary and rushes for the shower, catching a glimpse of Makoto kicking Junpei in the shin, his face also a bit red, with Sanada and Aragaki looking uncomfortable as all hell (with his hands covering Amada's ears, no less). When they look her way, they just… quickly look away, face crimson, especially Aragaki. She just frowns, but ignores it and goes to the shower anyway.

After a quick one, she comes out refreshed to the table filled to the brim with plates after plates of unnamable food, Makoto already properly showered and dressed ( _how are you faster than me!?_ ), an apron across his torso, with Aragaki in tow. It seems like the latter's used to people seeing him in his cooking gear by now, since he's no longer sweating bullets or trying to hide it.

She takes a seat, and Makoto follows, exchanging a brief glance. He then moves a little, and Junpei yelps afterwards (he must've kicked him. Totally does), making the rest of the table laugh merrily.

"We're gonna be cooking for yer louses for the rest of the month," Aragaki growls, dropping down beside Sanada. "And that includes the 31st, where we're gonna go kick Death in the ass and celebrate like fucking kings afterwards. And no, I don't fucking care if you're all gonna be dead on your feet by then or not."

Makoto rolls his eyes.

"I most certainly look forward to tasting your cooking, Yuuki, Shinjirou," Mitsuru hums, smiling just minutely. "And I must say, you've improved quite a lot, Yuuki."

He shrugs. "Only because I have the best teacher."

"Can't say the same for Yamagishi, though," Aragaki says, eyeing the navigator as she pouts a little, pinching his arm and making the older boy yelps. " _Ow!_ "

"That's just mean, Shinji," Sanada chuckles.

"Shut up, Aki."

"Well, let us make the most out of this last week before the final battle, shall we?" Makoto says with a warm smile as he claps his hands together. "And remember, if we do survive after this, we're going to be cooking something _wild_."

"Easy for you to say, you dipshit," Aragaki growls, but he ultimately sighs and shakes his head, putting his hand together. "But we sure as hell will."

She smiles, putting her hands together as they prepare for the first feast of the week.

They're all going to survive, and the future is theirs for the taking. She's sure of that.

And with Makoto by her side, she thinks there's nothing left for her to be afraid of.

* * *

**_The Fool_ **

"Nervous?"

It's the first thing he hears after coming up to the roof. The battle is tomorrow, and all of them agree that a moment to reflect upon themselves is a good idea. He finds his solace on the rooftop of the dorm, the chill wind biting and gnawing into his very core is, ironically enough, calming him down and giving him some sort of stillness he couldn't have found anywhere else.

He glances to his side as Shinjirou joins him, his large, callous hand on his head again, tousling his hair out of its shape a little. He doesn't mind it. He gives the older man's word a few moments to sink in before replying, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah."

"You've done this plenty of times before, sure ain't gonna be that much different, I bet," The older man hums, pulling his hand away and tugging it inside the pockets of his coat. Then, "It ain't just the jitters, is it? You're hiding something, something you don't want us to know."

He should've seen that coming; that spending so much time with this street-smart person, maybe even more often than with Yukari, would mean that he'd be able to pick up all the little tells his body gives off. Makoto sighs, defeated. He just keeps his eyes on the moon as it grows closer to being full. "…I'm not sure how the rest will take the news… could you keep it a secret?"

Shinjirou narrows his eyes, but says nothing. He then nods. "…Alright. What is it?"

"I'm not going to live to see spring."

"… _What?_ "

His voice sounds betrayed, pained, _scared_ , and Makoto understands that. They've established themselves as something akin to brothers, so it's understandable that he'd react that way. He chances a glance at the older boy's eyes, to see confusion and fear, his scowl deep. He only gives the senior a small smile that doesn't reflect the guilt brewing inside the pit of his stomach. "I'm sorry."

"Just… why?"

"Nyx is the manifestation of Death," He explains, his eyes back towards the waxing moon again. " _Memento Mori_ – remember that you will die. It's the fundamental law of the world; if you live, one day, you'll have to die. There's no such thing as defeating Death. But, delaying it? Maybe."

"What're you getting at?" Shijirou growls, grabbing his collar and pulling him closer, to face the fierceness of his eyes as he barks at him. "Makoto, what the hell's the meaning of this!?"

"You can't defeat Death. But you can delay it, you can prevent it sometimes. But not destroy it; to destroy Death itself is to defy the law of the universe. It isn't something possible," He explains, trying his very best to keep his voice calm, collected. "But if Death is the law of the world, then why does it choose now to descend, when it has _eons_ to do so before?"

Shinjirou chews on his tongue, brows furrow, contemplating. If he's like how Makoto knows him, then he'll come to the same conclusion he did. And he does, as expected. "…Man."

"Mankind's wishes for death is calling her down," He says quietly. "And to _stop_ the Fall, I'll have to stop her from ever making contact with those wishes, no matter where they are, not matter what they are. I'll have to seal her—"

"—With your life…?" He says, more an exclamation than a question. "Makoto—"

"I'm the only one who could pull it off," He says, smiling, silently _begging_ for the older boy to see the necessity of his choice, to forgive him. "I'm not even sure if I'll be able to, at all, but there are _possibilities_ that I can, and it's a miracle I'm going to make happen no matter what."

It looks like he wants to say something, but in the end, he doesn't. His grip on his collar slackens, and he looks down, deep sadness unhidden by the scowl and the tense jawline. It takes the older boy a moment before he murmurs, unsure. "…Does anyone else know?"

He shakes his head.

"…That's why you used _all of you_ instead of _us_ ," He says quietly. Again, he only nods in response, not trusting himself enough to keep his voice steady. "Makoto, if there's anything—"

"There isn't," He says with a small smile. "To fight a _god_ , you'll need a power that's its equal. I'm not even sure if my Wild Card power will reach that level or not, but I'm the person closest to that."

"…I see," He mutters. "So, you've made your choices quite some time ago, huh?"

"Yes," He says, laughing quietly. "I'm sorry."

"…Don't apologize for wanting to save us, dumbass," Shinjirou ends up saying, and in a manner that has become somewhat of a ritual to them, draws him into a one arm hug, his strong limb slung over his shoulders. "I wish there were some other ways to go about this."

"Me too," He murmurs quietly, his nails digging into his arm as he tries to stop himself from ever crying. He won't cry again, for their sakes, and perhaps… his own, too. "Me too."

"But remember," The man says, carefully. "I won't tell anyone, and… I'm with you. Always."

He smiles. "Thank you, Shinjirou-senpai."

* * *

Tartarus is crawling with Shadows, angry growls and ungodly cries of monsters unnamable filling the stale air like howls of wolves, waiting for the preys.

He has to make a decision to push on with Aigis, Sanada, Junpei and Shinjirou, leaving the rest behind to stall the rest of the Shadows. He needs to reach the top of Tartarus, no matter how painful that decision may be. But Yukari told him to believe in her, in them, so he will – he _must_.

Next comes Strega, whom the rest of his team get into a brawl with. He bites his lip and nods at them before pushing past them, a bullet missing his head, no small thanks to the fact that Takaya is now only left with his usually unused arm.

He runs up the steps, his mind reeling. He dreads having to face Ryoji (his best friend, his _Death_ ), but he has to. For everyone's sake, he must. The peak of Tartarus draws ever closer, and he could see glimpse of black feathers scattering in the still wind, the pale moonlight adorning the last steps up to the ground of his final battle.

He falls back when the stair erupts, and up comes the Reaper, its single eye rolling, guns ready, sounds of clinking chains and ungodly moans pulling and twisting the air. He reflexively calls forth Orpheus (his beginning), while shifting _Thanatos_ (his end, his Death, the proof of his bond with Ryoji) to the front of his mind. A dance, and flame engulfs the Reaper like wildfire. He steps forward, only to see the thing still _alive_ , its guns pointing at him.

_I bring you Megidolaon._

Elizabeth's voice rings inside his head, and he looks up to see the whitish glow that quickly expands and descends, sending smokes up into the air. Once it's cleared, he's greeted with a sizable hole in the ground, no Reaper in sight. It takes him a moment, but he smiles and closes his eyes, to see the glimpse of the elevator, to see those soft golden eyes that has lend him aid yet again. "Thank you."

He runs up further, the howling wind and the chill air biting through his shirt and into his bones. At last, he is at the top, the battlefield no more than a flat roof, stone pillars circling the area as some kind of ritualistic decorations. He then looks up as feathers, black as night itself, converges and gives rise to the decrepit, decaying wings, the hollow smile and the imposing figure nothing less than a monster from feverish nightmare. But he recognizes it— _him_ —in an instant.

"Ryoji," He breathes as his Death descends, feetless legs touching the cold stones, moonlight covering his figure like a gown. There is a moment of silence, that stretches and expands beyond eons, before he continues, a smile on his lips. "It has been a while."

Ryoji doesn't reply immediately, his visage no longer readable. A pause, then, " _That… was my name for a time. I didn't mind it_. _"_

He readies himself, sword tight in hand. He's giving off a different, more hostile air. Even if the sense of _him_ remains, this is no doubt somethin _g different_ , something vile. "What are you?"

_"As of now… I am a part of Nyx; her Avatar, the Harbinger to bring forth the fall. Nyx and I—there are no longer a distinction to be made. We are one and the same."_

There's sadness hiding deep within that voice, the voice that has always been so kind, so cheerful. He could only steel himself as Ryoji—as _Nyx Avatar_ shifts, an Arcana spinning slowly before him until it stops.

 _"Makoto,"_ As the Arcana of the Magician halts in front of Nyx Avatar, he says, pointing a finger at him. _"I act according to Nyx's—to my will. But… I do hope that you'll be able to acquire the miracle you sought. I am Death, the inevitable. To live is to die; they are one and the same. If you wish to bring about the miracle then face me, without falter, with your heart as your guide. Are you ready?"_

"Yeah!" He says, pulling the trigger, calling out Orpheus once more.

_"The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate… Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope. Yes, the Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Attaining one's dream requires a stern will and and unfailing determination."_

Determination _was_ a foreign concept to him. Why fight so hard when it all's going to end up in flames, when it all's going to be left forgotten? But he knows better, now. To live, is to have something you strive for. Without determination, there is no life.

 _"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… the silent voice within one's heart whispers the most profound wisdom_. _"_

He's always known, that deep down, his instinct is something he should've trusted. He's been ignoring it for most of his life. Only now does he truly listens to it, and to hear the whispers of wisdom hidden under his fear and self-loathing is liberating.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Celebrate life's grandeur, it's brilliance, it's magnificence."_

Life has always been something cruel, something meaningless, something he often wished would be taken away, mercilessly. But now, now that he's here, life is beautiful, so sorrowful, so kind.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Only courage in the face of doubt can lead one to the answer."_

Courage is something he only realizes the meaning when he starts to _fear_ death, not for himself, but for someone close to him. When he starts to care, it takes courage to face that fear, to make connections with others, to forge his bonds with people.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… It is indeed a precious gift to understand the forces that guide oneself."_

He lives only to die, that _was_ his conduct, that was how he viewed it. There were no intents behind his actions, no thoughts behind his words. But now that he's surrounded by the people he's formed these bonds with, he understands; what drives him to fight, to go this far, is the bonds they share, the love he gives and is given back in return.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… There is both joy and wonder in coming to understand another."_

Making bonds allows him to see people in different light. All are unique, with their own drives and goals, with their own little quirks that make him laughs, with their own sadness that makes him cry. It's wonderful in its own way.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… One of life's greatest blessings is the freedom to pursue one's goal."_

At first, there's no goal for him to pursue. And then, there are; from the bonds that bind them together come the wishes to make them happy, to see them smile, to make sure they live. To pursue such goal without hindrance makes him feel like he's finally _free_ of the shackles of the past that weighs him down.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… To find one's true path, one must seek guidance amidst uncertainly."_

And when darkness looms over him, cloaking him in despair and self-hatred, the steady hands of his friends guide him forward. And it allows him to find himself—his true self—again.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… It requires great courage to look at oneself honestly, and forge one's own path."_

It took him his entire life to face his own warped memories. But to face his fear is also to open up a new path with his own two hands. And afterwards… after facing the haunting nightmares, he realized that he's finally _free_.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Along time exist fate, the bearer of cruelty."_

And yet, here he is. Even all the trials that he has passed, all the suffering he's endured, Fate still sees fit that he must fight his own demon, his _Death_ , his dearest, oldest friend. Ryoji.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… Only with strength can one endure suffering and torment."_

But he has to fight. No matter how painful it is, this is a war he _must_ win. And he will, no matter the suffering, no matter the pain.

All to make sure that those who have given him the meaning of life will have a chance to live on.

_"The Arcana is the means by which all is revealed… In the face of disaster lies the opportunity for renewal."_

And here, facing the Goddess of Death, he dimly hopes that somehow, he'll be able to find the meaning of his life beyond the ones he's already established. To live is to die, he knows that. But what else is the meaning of his life beyond that? But he thinks… he's already known it; through facing the Shadows, through defying deaths, through fear and lies and distrusts.

To live is to bond, to help others, to love others.

And he will not let this life, given to him anew, be wasted by some end of the world that's coming down on its own.

"Bring it on!" He bellows, defiant. His body aches, his mind numb, his hands barely able to grip onto his weapons anymore. But he will fight. Because this life is not his alone. And he will _not_ allow it to go to waste.

Upon his declaration, Nyx (Ryoji) lifts up his sword, his wings spread wide like cloak of dusk.

_"The moment man devoured the fruit of knowledge, he sealed his fate… Entrusting his future to the cards, man clings to a dim hope. Yet, the Arcana is the means by which all is revealed…"_

Darkness dances across the blade, and before he could pull the trigger, the sword's onto him, the black flame burning and scalding as he cries out in pain. The shockwave sends him sprawling across the floor, his limbs screaming and burning, his body gasping for air that'll never be enough.

His vision tunnels down as he lies flat, his eyes facing the full moon above, the wings of darkness expanding across his vision as Nyx Avatar says, slowly, carefully.

_"Beyond the beaten path lies the absolute end. It matters not who you are… Death awaits you."_

No. He'll not let this be the end. The miracle is still there, and he'll grab it, without fail.

"Are you going to give up, Makoto?"

He gasps, surprised, and looks up to see the sapphire blue that's always so intense, yet so kind. To see the pale face covered by the bright yellow scarf. Even if it's an illusion, he doesn't care. This is his Death, his other self, his friend.

He growls out. _"No."_

"Good," The man hums, reaching a hand towards him. A hand he promptly takes, without falter. "Then stand and fight. It's not over yet."

_Thank you, Ryoji._

As Nyx Avatar looms over him, reeking of decay and death, he stands up. Every bond is real, every life precious and kind. And Ryoji—who he's just seen helping him to his feet, who's tall before him as the Avatar of decay, of absolute end… even when he's like this, the bond they share is the real thing.

It's his bond with Ryoji that allows him to see the path forward. And it's Ryoji that's gifting him with this life in the first place.

He _saved_ Makoto, from his own memories, from himself. And he'll not let _that_ be for _nothing_.

"Persona!"

His head jerks to the side as he hears the whisper of the man he can proudly call his best friend, and rises from the flame is the manifestation of their bond, the personification of Death—his Death—in its purest form.

 _Thanatos_.

The God of Death roars, voice cutting through the stale air like victory cry, and it charges right into Ryoji, sword clashing, sending sparks flying across the night sky. He wills his legs to move as Thanatos takes the fight upwards into the sky above. He _knows_ it won't be able to completely overpowers something that powerful, but a surprise attack from Nyx Avatar's blind spot will do. He will win, even at the cost of his own soul.

They fly and clash like birds of prey, steel against steel, animalistic roar against composed violence and decay that spreads like the black plague. He runs into the cover of the stone pillars at the two of them crashes into the ground. Thanatos rears back to fire a Megidolaon at Nyx, who promptly stabs it through the head.

 _Go_.

The voice whispers, and he listens, leaping off the pillar he's found himself on, his sword ready. He spies Nyx Avatar trying to raise the giant blade to defend itself, but there's a slight delay—

—Delay that enables him to stab Nyx through the forehead, ending the fight.

He collapses onto his knees, panting, his body aching and screaming. Something doesn't sit right—this is easy, _too_ easy.

"Makoto!" A voice calls, and he turns to see his friends (his life) coming up. They're battered, they're beaten and bloodied, but they're _alive_. He smiles tiredly at them as he gets to his feet. Then he hears Yukari says. "Are you okay?"

He only nods, before something tugs his eyes up towards the moon. And then he realizes.

_This is not the miracle Ryoji mentioned. I've yet to reach it!_

_"Close… you were all so close,"_ Nyx Avatar says as he rises up, tipping his balance and making him fall. He looks, in horror, as the wingspan extends, and the Avatar melts into the night like ink into the water. _"Such a pity. You understand fate, yet you still fight against it with all of your will. If more people were like you, then perhaps the Fall could've been prevented…"_

 _Makoto,_ a voice rings in his head as his body begs him to give up. _Once more. Show me your resolve. Make that miracle happen._

And as that red eye glares back into his soul, he knows, instinctively, that Nyx is the moon.

_Nyx is the fucking moon._

Before they could do anything else, waves of gravity crashes down into them, forcing them to their knees. He tries to stop them, but each of his friends summon their own other selves and send them up towards the falling moon. And as another wave comes, they all dissipate, turning into nothing.

_Get up. I have to get up. I have to do something._

He forces himself up against the gravity, but is forced back down, gasping. He hears someone calls in a panic, and he looks up to see Shadows crawling up the side of the tower like relentless tides of the dark sea, devouring, ever consuming.

_I won't let them die. I won't let anything take them away from me!_

* * *

"I know that you've already reached The Answer, but to carry out this miracle requires an unbending will, Makoto."

He opens his eyes, to see himself sitting in the expansive darkness, so soothing, so cold. He sits on the intricate blue couch, and opposite from him is Ryoji, his eyes forever kind, his smile eternally forlorn.

"Even if you have to end up forever in agony, would you still do it?"

"Yes."

"Even if you're cursed and forgotten, even if your name is spit upon, would you still do it?"

" _Yes_."

Ryoji smiles sadly. "Their fates are in your hands now, Makoto. Save them. For the both of us."

* * *

His eyes snap open, to witness the unrelenting waves of darkness consuming his friends, his family, the people he _loves_ , one by one. Even if it hurts, he forces himself to stand up, the power that would allow him to reach Nyx's true body now within his grasp.

He fires the Evoker twice, drawing out his Orpheus (his beginning) and Thanatos (his Death, his end) into the world, ignoring the searing burn at the back of his mind. And then they melt into one another, his life and his death, his beginning and his end. He looks up at the moon as the gentle light envelops him, the light that soon burns the Shadows away, like the sun ridding the world of the unending night.

He turns to them, looking each in the eye. He could see realization dawning on their faces as he smiles, the Evoker in his hand slipping onto the ground. He then points his finger at Yukari, who's crying, who's begging him not to go.

" _Live."_

"Stop! Please, _stop!_ " She tries to reach for him, but the merciless wave of crushing gravity doesn't let her. He only smiles as he turns to look up at the moon, at the red eye of Nyx, at the Fall. There is one more miracle he has to carry out. He'll do it, even if it hurts. For the bonds he cherishes, he must.

Messiah's light lifts him off the ground, and he lets a drop of tear cascades down his cheek as he murmurs quietly, for nothing and no one except his own broken soul to hear. "I'm sorry. And thank you, all of you, for everything."

He discards the last of his regrets, of his heartbreak into the night as he ascends to meet the moon, the very god whose existence cannot be defied nor stopped. But he will—with whatever miracle he can make happen, with his own two hands.

Messiah turns into particles of light that envelops him, warm and gentle, as it leads him deeper into the tunnel of blackness, of death and agony, of pain and suffering. And at the end of the twisted path lies the core of the being he has to seal away, lies the very heart and soul of Death, of Nyx.

As soon as his feet touch the endless dark, bolt of searing flame engulfs him, and he screams in pain as it burns deep into his very soul.

_Even if you're all alone, you're not lonely by any means._

He takes a knee, his hands planted on the ground, panting, trying to force himself up. Against this despair, he will not fail.

_Yuuki-san, don't let it end like this!_

_Yuuki! No matter what happens, you and the rest of us are one!_

One more time. He has to get up. Again. Until the Fall is thwarted, until their lives are free.

_By itself, each one is a minuscule power. But, without a doubt, they're all directed towards you. Close your eyes and listen well, Makoto-san… these voices, nearly imperceptible…_

_Have they reached you, I wonder?_

"…Yeah," He grunts, a smile on his lips even as his face is scrunched up, pain running through his nerves like wildfire. "Yeah, I can hear them. _All of them_."

He grunts again, forcing himself back up on his feet. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how exhausted his body gets, he _will_ see this through.

_Please, give Yuuki our strength—the strength to stand up to the Fall!_

_Please… give Yuuki-kun our strength, our hope!_

_Don't be the only one looking cool! I'm coming right now, so hold up!_

He smiles. He could hear them clearly, even through this blazing haze, even through this excruciating pain, against this bone-deep exhaustion. They're right here with him.

_Makoto-san, you promised to come back, didn't you? So please…!_

_Makoto, you better see this damn thing through, or I'mma punch your ass back into the sun!_

_Makoto… please, don't leave me alone. Please win. Please, live!_

He forces himself up straight, even as his legs are screaming at him, even if his lungs are burning. His hand twitches, and he could hear Ryoji's soft, kind voice at the back of his mind.

_Let's go, Makoto._

The flame envelopes him again, but this time, he doesn't falter.

_For both you and I, this is the last power._

_The power of the beginning and the end. The power that started it all, as well as the power that will end it all. What you have acquired is The Universe; literally, space itself. With this power in hand, you may yet stand a chance against the absolute, the undefeatable._

_By now, any realization is no longer a miracle to you. Nothing is impossible._

The air, stale, is _warm_ , no longer burning and scorching like the purgatory for the sinners. The power of the bonds he's forged is now here, within his reach.

_If harboring Death was your destiny, then so was acquiring the power of the Wild Card. It is time; accept your fate, Makoto-san._

He knows. This is his end, the last page of his tale. He doesn't mind it.

He's achieved the miracle he so desperately sought.

He can say proudly, now, that he's had a good life, brief as it may be.

_Soon, we will reach the top floor._

He raises his hand upward, a finger against the vast darkness that threatens to consume all.

_Your contract has now been fulfilled. My job is now completed._

_You are the best guest I've ever had._

"Thank you."

He smiles, and lets the light engulfs him whole, stretching his life and soul across the expanse of space, creating a barrier that would forever prevent Nyx from coming into contact with countless wishes for deaths.

And soon, everything goes white.

* * *

He wakes up to see himself on the same couch, in the same place, facing the same person.

Somehow, he feels… freer than ever before.

"Congratulations," Ryoji says, a gentle smile on his lips, eyes forlorn but proud. "The miracle has been splendidly carried out. The world is saved."

He laughs, free and unchained by any worries. "I see. That's good."

"…I'm sorry, Makoto," Ryoji says as he stands up, walking over to him. Before he could ask why, he's pulled into a hug, and he could hear the barely audible sobs coming from his Death. "I'm so sorry. I want you to live."

"It's okay," He murmurs, hugging the boy back. When he pulls away, he smiles. "So, I guess this is it, huh… I wonder if I've made my parents proud."

"You definitely did," He says with a chuckle. "Yeah, you definitely did."

There's a pause.

Then, "I think… you can do it. One more month."

"…What?"

"You promised them, right? That you'll meet up on Graduation Day?"

He only nods. It's the promise he's not able to keep, and he'd endure an eternity of pain just for a chance to carry that out.

"I think you can," Ryoji says, as if managing to read his mind. "One month. The Seal won't break and bend even if you keep a _little_ bit of your soul with you until then."

He sighs and smiles, closing his eyes and tipping his head up. "I guess so."

"Do you want to?"

It's painful. He doesn't want to face them. He could offer nothing else but sorrow, but they taught him better than that. "…Even if it hurts, I want to see them, just one last time. One more month. One more spring."

"It's going to be exhausting and painful, to cling to a piece of your soul for a whole month, to see people you love forget about you," He says, quietly. "But… I know you're not going to back down, are you?"

"Of course not."

Ryoji laughs merrily. "Then go. We'll meet again soon, as much as it pains me to say."

Makoto only smiles. "See you later, then."

* * *

The blocks of bricks and stones shift and change back into Gekkoukan high as Tartarus disappears, the imposing tower no longer in this world, its purpose unfulfilled, it's existence unnecessary.

He could see them down there, and as soon as he steps across the threshold, he smiles, hiding the exhaustion underneath. He sees Aigis _crying_ , tears dropping from her eyes like rainfall. As soon as his feet touch the ground, he's surrounded, cheers and tears of happiness filling the air.

Before he could say anything, Yukari tackles him, almost tipping him off balance. He coughs as the sudden impact pushes the air out of his lungs.

"You idiot. Idiot! You had me worried!" She says, crying into his chest, hands gripping his blazer tight and not intending to let go. He glances up at the older boy, at Shinjirou, and a conversation seems to pass between them.

He says nothing as the older boy sighs and nods, his smile both happy and sad. He then looks down at the girl before him and circles his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. He then buries his face into the crown of her head and murmurs.

"I'm home."

_They're his home. This place is his home._

_And he wouldn't have it any other way._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next is the Intermission, then the last four chapters. I'll be waiting for you then!
> 
> Cheers!


	23. Intermission: Death's Laments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's afraid of what Makoto wants to say, but before he knows it, the receive button has already been pressed, and the other speaks before he could. "Nyx is undefeatable, but is she unstoppable?"
> 
> It's his worst fear, his greatest nightmares. He knows what Makoto will have to do, if he's going to stop Nyx. To Seal a power so great, one would need a miracle. And Makoto, who's forged so many bonds unbreakable, so many connections irreplaceable, is already qualified to achieve such power—
> 
> —The power that would allow him to mold his own life and soul, weave them into the barrier that would prevent Nyx and humanity's call for deaths to ever reach one another.
> 
> The power that would mold his soul into a seal.
> 
> He doesn't want that, selfish as his wish is.
> 
> He's willing to let the whole world die to save Makoto from pain – what kind of best friend is that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I have to attend finals, which is two days away, argh!
> 
> Anyways, more Intermission. You know who it is, don't you? :D
> 
> Go ahead! I can guarantee you that the last four chapters are at LEAST 6k long, and no, I didn't mean that. I kept adding things in until it's that long :P

**_Intermission: Death's Laments_ **

It was born inside a white, bland room.

It's not human. They call it _Shadow_ , its name _Death._

It doesn't have a purpose, but its body _knows_. It is here to bring the _mother_ towards this place, and to do that, it must unite the scattered parts back into itself.

Before it could do so, someone set ablaze the place it was born, and it is separated from the rest. In its attempt to find the other parts of itself, something engages it. It knows such pitiable being couldn't stand against it, yet here the thing is, battling Death at full power without falter, without fear. Bullets are shed from its fingertips, strange manifestation of the thing's sense of self harming it, damaging it.

It dances, its lipless teeth stretch wide, frigid air following its breath as its twisted hand and blade react and cut and wound. The thing, a mere _machine_ , is here to stop it. But it has a goal to see through, a goal to complete, to bring forth the mother. It roars and bellows, powers running wild like flame skidding across the surface, setting many strange contraptions, strange machines, alight.

Its hollow eyes then find a mere child crying, the boy's body full of wounds as he reaches out for someone inside the blazing steel and plastic. And it is upon this small moment of distraction that the machine turns it into nothing but a soul, its power scatters towards its separated parts.

It shrieks and growls, trashing and tossing as the thing walks it towards the child that pulled its eyes away moments prior.

And then, all it could feel is the endless dark and the burning flame.

* * *

The boy's name is Yuuki Makoto.

It still has a body, but unseen and untouchable. It might've been for the best; such unfathomable, hideous form would scare away many. It hovers in the small room, watching, as the boy's beaten and cursed at and picked apart. It doesn't understand why the boy doesn't fight back. It knows the boy can, the boy must've been able to. But he doesn't.

And when the boy's left with naught but wounds and broken sobs, eye devoid of what they call _life_ , it could feel the urge to help, to stay.

So it hovers over, the dried, scrawny finger reaching to wipe away the drop of tear that makes its way past the boy's eyelid. The water freezes and shatters into little diamond dust, and the boy looks up.

It doesn't seem like he sees anything, but he must've _felt_ it.

Because, much to Death's surprise, he says quietly, almost to the gods above and devils below.

" _Thank you_."

* * *

Makoto is wronged by so many people, so many times, that a part of it thinks that he deserves better than this sorry existence.

The boy is kind, infinitely patient, and undeniably _broken_ , shards of his soul scattering across the floor like pieces of glass, ready to cut and bite his own two feet as he walks the path of kindness—kindness that none of these wretched humans deserve.

It could only watch, most of the time, its body nigh incorporeal, except for moments where it could wipe away the tears or touch the boy's shoulder lightly, carefully, as if to say that he is not alone. It seems Makoto acknowledges its existence, even if he couldn't see it, and would often talk of nothings to his dark, empty room when he's afraid or lonely.

Which is almost all the time.

 _Why didn't you fight back?_ It asks, receiving no words in return. But it knows. After watching, hearing, it knows just the reason.

Because the boy is infinitely kind. He's taught to be gentle, he molded to be kind, he's predisposed to be nothing but a sweet, sweet boy.

And it is this gentleness that baffles it.

Why be gentle, when they're nothing but cruel and mocking? Why be kind, when they're beating and sneering at you?

This time is just like uncountable moments before, where his gentleness gets him naught but hands and feet that bruise and beat at him, until nothing but ugly spots of blue and drops of blood and tears cover his body. After they all go away, and he's left alone, the boy finally breaks down, crying into his knees, as if to wash away the pain he's inflicted with.

Death reaches for the boy's cheek, wiping the tear away, the droplet shatters and scatters into the wind.

Then, quietly, like always, it says without hoping for its words to be heard.

_I'm here._

Makoto looks up from his curled-up position, his steel gray eyes wide as he looks around.

Surprisingly, the speech is directed at it. "I could hear you… are you really there?"

It tilts its head, the clinking of chains drawing the boy's eyes towards it, even if he couldn't see. A finger finds the boy's cheek yet again, wiping away the drop of sadness that would often—too often—adorn his feature. It then whispers.

_Yes. Always._

For the first time since that fateful day, the boy _smiles_. "Thank you."

* * *

It isn't often that Death could be heard, but when it is, Makoto seems so _happy_ , despite everything else that has been going on around him.

But because of that, those people he's called _family_ and _friends_ are cold, disgusted, by his randomness, by his unpredictability, by their own inability to grasp the gentleness and the love this boy has to give.

And one day, it all falls apart.

He is there, with Death by his side, mumbling out his thoughts for it and it alone to hear. It doesn't mind; in fact, being talked to so calmly is… _nice_. But of course, humans are often as cruel as they are kind, and one of those Makoto had called _friends_ has started picking on him, like some rabid dogs in need of attention.

It growls to nothingness, no ears to heed its call but Makoto's own, and its _Life_ (this boy gave it this life, even unknowingly, even not of his own choice. The boy is its opposite half—it is Death, and he is Life) is smiling sadly, his eyes pleading it to stop, even without seeing it.

It does.

The mistreatment grows worse. It feels powerless, for the first time since its existence. Tears can be wiped, skin can be touched to soothe, but there is _nothing_ it could do to stop them from breaking this boy into pieces. He's already at the precipice, and one more push would—

And then, Makoto's drowning, legs feebly kicking the air as the others laugh and laugh. It could see the light of life ebbing away, of fear, of pain, in those steel gray eyes that have always been so kind, so warm, so gentle.

_I will save you._

Its hand touches upon Makoto's own, spurring his half-conscious body to action. The hands find this bastard's neck, and he's _strangling_ the life out of his own tormenter. It finds no wrong in that.

But this breaks Makoto, to the point of no return.

* * *

Neither its voice nor its touch could reach him.

He's dead inside, no goals to drive him, no will to live, yet no will to die. An empty, pointless life as a reward for all the kindness he's shown others.

There is a brief moment where it thinks that maybe, just maybe, Makoto would be saved, that he would be able to hear its voice again, with its hand now occasionally tangible to the boy. Akari is the only human it approves of, her existence something the boy desperately needs.

Only for that hope to be reduced to ashes by the people it deems unworthy of even walking the earth.

And finally, when the fire has died down, when the boy finds himself in the charred room, he collapses, the woods creaking under his weight, under his scarred body and his shattered soul.

Tears come out like water through broken dam, and it could _feel_ the despair that clings to the boy. And then, the boy murmurs, not to himself, but to it.

"Why do you have to cling to me…? Why would you always take lives away because I'm there…?"

He cries and cries and _cries,_ shoulders shaking, voice trembling. It could do nothing, its words unheeded, its touch incorporeal.

"You cling to me like a goddamn _parasite_."

It feels something akin to… pain, perhaps. The sensation is new, and… unpleasant.

"Just take me, too. End me. I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to feel _anything_."

It couldn't bring itself to.

And in the end, it just… melts away, observing, waiting, for someone to save Makoto from himself.

The next morning, he forgets about it, completely, absolutely.

It hurts, but perhaps… this is for the best.

* * *

Pharos doesn't remember where he was from, who he actually is, or why he's there.

But he knows that he owes Makoto—this boy, so dead inside, so kind and so broken—more than a few apologies. He isn't even sure why.

He hands him the contract, and he signs it without a question asked.

Those gray eyes are distant, disinterest, as they regard him with not curiosity, but _boredom_. Even with his form gone, unable to manifest outside of the hour in which the world stands still, he could still watch. And Makoto—he doesn't care even when someone's reaching for a gun. Doesn't care to ask any questions of things that should've brought concern to him.

Empty, and broken, the gentleness buried deep into the pit of his soul.

But that kindness is only _buried_ , not destroyed.

 _Are you that afraid of death?_ He had said to the girl in pink, the girl Pharos sees is tied to him in ways indescribable.

But even with that, when faced with _her_ death, he acts without a care for his own soul.

Upon Pharos' suggestion, he pulls the trigger of the gun, no hesitation in his movement. And to his call is _Orpheus_ , the Fool, the musician who dared to play a game with death itself.

But it isn't enough. Orpheus is still weak, its power holding not a candle to this mass of malice that is a Shadow.

He reaches a hand, and Makoto _screams_.

Ripping and tearing their way out of the Fool are his own hands, and he feels himself rearing back. His power, unholy and vile, surges forward, draining out every last bit of Makoto's already dwindling psyche as he rips the Shadow to pieces.

And then, his sense of self is separated from that body, from that mask, from that _Persona_ that's now melting back into the night, back inside the pit of Makoto's broken soul.

His memories are still broken and lost, but he is certain of one thing, now—

—That whoever he is, he is far too _dangerous._

* * *

During the next few months, after so many pain and anguish, Makoto finally seems more open, more _alive_ , than he remembers.

He grins as he watches the boy smiles after the longest of time, after so much pain and suffering. He is always such a gentle soul, no matter how wronged he is, or how cruel the world has been. That kindness is so bright like the sun, beaconing them forever forward.

But his self-deprecation, his warped memories of him blaming himself for each and every death that is in no way his fault, linger, collecting themselves like pools of tar and rancid blood under his feet.

He wishes there is something he could've done.

"Why are their deaths on you?" He asks one day, after a slow month of him enjoying his life for the first time since Pharos remembers.

He stiffens at that, his lips set into a thin line, his eyes hard and sorrowful.

"Because I live, while they're all six feet under."

"None of it is your fault, though," He says. "Maybe except for the strangled one. But you did it out of self-defense."

At this, he doesn't respond with words, instead he curls into himself, his knees against his chest.

He's afraid, of losing people close to him, Pharos knows this. But he still couldn't understand why those deaths would be his fault.

But then again… he was just a child. Having lies and hurtful words whispers to him like curses for ten long years would warp his perception of things, he supposes.

He wishes he could do something to correct that.

But he never wishes for that chance to be with his friend, with Makoto, at Death's door.

It is the Dark Hour. He knows Makoto can see him, can hear him, as his shadow is warped, cold air escaping between his teeth as he breathes. He looks at the boy, so dazed and so pale, blood splattering across his body and the floor like canvas of red, a painting of despair and fleeting light of life on the dark stones underneath.

Pharos has never been bothered by the blood pools during the Dark Hour, but seeing him like this, seeing Makoto so broken and so close to Death _terrifies_ him.

So, when those distant steel gray meet his own, he questions, he prods, wanting Makoto to fight just a little longer, to bide the time for his friends, his bonds, the ones who give his life meaning, a bit more time to save him.

A bit more time, to let him see the truth.

A bit more time, to save his _soul_ , too.

* * *

Time, as it turns out, can be as merciless as the wheel of fate.

While he's managed to save his soul, his body remains on the thin thread. Throwing himself into the jaws of Death, just for a single _chance_ to save someone he barely knows isn't something any _sane_ person would do. But then again, Pharos thinks it's not his place to comment on that.

He isn't tangible, but he could still see, as they try and try to stop the red that's gushing out like torrents of rain, unforgiving. He could still see them as the ambulance takes him away. He could see his friends, his _love_ , crying and tearing their hearts out for him.

While he is glad that he's having his kindness rewarded, the situation is far, _far_ from ideal.

But after the talk, after he has brought Makoto back to his memories, seen from Pharos' own eyes, he thinks… there's nothing mentally he should be worrying about anymore.

He watches as his friends keep their hopes high, waiting, praying, pleading. He watches as his _love_ , the one who had helped him break out of his shell, cries and holds onto his hand like a lifeline. He watches as the man whose fate he's altered – the man who's supposed to _die_ that night – stands right beside the bed, silently begging the gods above for him to wake up.

Pharos finds himself joining into their prayers afterwards.

Even if his memories are starting to come back together, calls of the Fall pawing on the inside of his ears, he still wishes for lives to flourish.

Living is painful, living is agonizing, and yet…

…He thinks, life is still as beautiful as ever before.

* * *

The first time Ryoji sets his eyes on Makoto, he could feel a strange pull, beckoning him closer.

Makoto looks like he _remembers_ Ryoji, perhaps from time long past, perhaps from places forgotten, but he never gives him a straight answer. After a few tries, he just gives up; while Makoto is very, _very_ easy to understand and read, if he's set his mind to keep something a secret, there is no force on earth (except maybe Yukari) that'd be able to pry the secrets from him.

Despite the rumors, Makoto is kind and gentle. He could see now why Yukari cares and loves him so much – the way he'd carefully pick his words, the way he'd read uneasiness off the expressions of others and try to diffuse it or to clear the negative thoughts away; it's not what people would generally go out of their ways to do.

Talking with Makoto feels so _natural_ to him, like speaking to an old friend who knows him well and who he knows like the back of his own hand.

And yet, there's this… foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach, that hisses into his ear of the role he has to take, of the sacrifice he has to make. He doesn't know what the voice's trying to say, but he's not going to let it distract him.

After a few days, he notices the shape of his right hand, crooked and scarred and blackened. When he asks, all Makoto says is that someone _shot_ him.

And the longer he spends time with Makoto, the more he realizes that this boy has never let the injustice of the world changes the core of who he is — he remains kind, he remains compassionate, even if he's still broken. Ryoji knows this; Makoto still _is_ incomplete, but he's getting there. And to see him helping others, to talk to him about nothing and everything, to see and experience his kindness first hand — it gives Ryoji what he thinks is a sense of pride.

He loves the way Makoto talks, soft-spoken and gentle and careful, all words and thoughts meticulously crafted to suit each one of his friends, him included. He loves the softness of Makoto's touches even as he chides and pulls Ryoji away from chasing Mitsuru's skirt ( _yeah, sorry, I didn't really mean that_ ). He loves the way Makoto laughs and smiles, always so gentle and so warm.

He loves everything about this broken but gentle soul.

It still surprises him how easily Makoto uncovers his secrets to him, confides to him things he's pretty sure even Yukari wouldn't have known, something deep and dark and twisted, like a maze. He gladly listens, he enthusiastically helps him through the pain he's had to experienced, because he knows that Makoto deserves much, _much more_.

And then, there's Kyoto.

To see the extent of his scars is… _disturbing_ – cuts and burns and _bites_ scattering across the pale surface of his skin like marks of _war_ , the twisted mark on his chest and the bullet wounds far too _big_ to _not_ be painful. He winces, but doesn't comment much on it. He couldn't, not after he's promised that it's okay to show Ryoji his wounds.

He doesn't say much, but he gives Makoto a subtle smile that says that _I'm here_ , and Makoto replies with a smile of his own that says _I know_.

He'll be there for him, that much he's certain.

* * *

It all starts with a pang of headache, and flashes of broken, forgotten memories.

Of burning cars, of mere boy looking up at him with wide eyes, terrified. Of times he'd see Makoto, so small and defenseless, crying in the corner. Of times Makoto would curse and spit at him for not taking him to the plane of oblivion like everyone else, too.

Of his time, taking a form of a child, talking, soothing, laughing with Makoto.

Of his time as a timeless, formless existence.

Before he knows it, he's already found himself at the Moonlight Bridge, the place where his shattered memories come together. He only remembers that he is Death, but no more. Not why he's here, not his purpose. Just the name, and his connection towards his best friend.

He was there, when Makoto was crying and left to the shadows, abandoned, unloved. He was there, when his parents perished in the flames. He was there, when Makoto's left drowning in his own blood during the full moon.

He was always there.

He _is_ a Shadow; a being that shouldn't have walked the day, a being that's destined to forever clash with mankind, a being whose existence spells disaster and _death_ and pain for all around it.

He doesn't want to hurt anyone, especially not Makoto.

So, when Makoto runs up to him, his face full of recognition, his eyes pained and lost, he knows that his best friend _remembers_. Everything they've shared, every word they've said – he _remembers_ , and he _knows_ Ryoji is a Shadow.

And yet, he decides not to say anything to anyone.

_Why?_

They could no longer bring themselves to stay in each other's vicinity, too terrified of the change that would soon come with the moon. Ryoji wishes his memories would bring nothing else to the table, but a part of him, deep down, _knows_ what is going to happen.

And on the night of the Full Moon, his memories return in full, just a few minutes after Aigis' own recollection.

He gasps, tears prickling at his eyes as he _remembers_ everything, as he feels and _knows_ what he is and why he's in the world. He doesn't want it to be true, but it is his reason of existing; the voice of the Dark God above whispers and crawls around inside his head like a spider, telling him of his roles, reminding him of his duties.

He doesn't want to do it.

His power acts on its own as Aigis charges forward, and he fails to stop her. He cries out as the barrier of light and vileness reeks out of him, wisps of black stretching beyond arm's reach and aiming to end Aigis' _life_ —

—But then, Orpheus is there.

He gapes, eyes darting towards the sound of footsteps approaching, to see Makoto smiling sadly at him, with the strange, metallic gun in his grasp, trail of smoke coming out from the barrel. He doesn't seem to rush, but his eyes say that he _saw_ everything.

"I'm so sorry, Makoto," He gasps, he breathes, he wants none of this to be true. "I'm sorry, I—"

Instead of screaming at him, or cursing him for harming Aigis, or whatever else, he hasn't expected Makoto to say; "You didn't choose this fate. You simply are."

"…No, I didn't," He confirms. "I simply am."

"What are you?" Makoto breathes softly, his voice calm, not a trace of anger underneath it.

Ryoji doesn't understand. Why would Makoto remain so collected, so _kind_ , even after he almost killed his comrade, even after it all? So, he explains, or at least tries to, his words tumbling out a mess, his mind too _scared_ and too jumbled up to say them carefully.

Makoto doesn't say anything, and when the others arrive, he tries again—

"Ryoji," He whispers tensely, but his eyes are so, _so_ kind. "You have to rest first. I'll tell them what I know."

"But I—" He tries, but his body fails him, exhaustion he shouldn't have felt taking over.

The last thing he feels is Makoto's careful, warm arms around his body as his consciousness slips away.

* * *

He gives them a chance to think—

But for Makoto, his choice is already made.

He doesn't want Makoto to suffer, he doesn't want him to face the inevitable, the indestructible. But it seems like his beloved best friend still thinks there's a way to defeat the embodiment of _Death_ , of Nyx, who's as absolute as the flow of time or the continuum of space.

Just before the decision date, Makoto calls him.

He's afraid of what Makoto wants to say, but before he knows it, the receive button has already been pressed, and the other speaks before he could. " _Nyx is undefeatable, but is she **unstoppable?**_ "

It's his worst fear, his greatest nightmares. He _knows_ what Makoto will have to do, if he's going to _stop_ Nyx. To Seal a power so great, one would need a miracle. And Makoto, who's forged so many bonds unbreakable, so many connections irreplaceable, is already qualified to achieve such power—

—The power that would allow him to mold his own life and soul, weave them into the barrier that would prevent Nyx and humanity's call for deaths to ever reach one another.

The power that would mold _his soul_ into a seal.

He doesn't want that, selfish as his wish is.

He's willing to let the whole world _die_ to save Makoto from _pain_ – what kind of best friend is that?

_You see him as more than just a friend already, Ryoji. You **love** him._

Ryoji chokes back the sobs that's threatening to rip out of his throat. Irrational as it is, he realizes that these feelings aren't just love for a friend. He sees Makoto as _more_. And it scares him. He doesn't mind that Makoto doesn't know how he sees him, and he wants nothing more than to keep it that way. But he realizes, now, that when he thinks with his heart, he both wants him to forget in order to not suffer… and wants him to fight, because it is who Makoto is, it is who Ryoji falls in love ( _Hah, Death falling in love_ ) with.

Even so, he doesn't want Makoto to go through with this. He doesn't care if Makoto will curse him for an eternity for it, but he doesn't want to see him suffer. He's been through enough, and asking him to mold his very existence into the Seal, that would have to stand firm for eternity, is not a fate he wants for him. Ryoji doesn't want him to be forever in pain like that, even if he has to kill everyone in the world to do it. To him, Makoto is worth much, much _more_ than any other person out there.

But he also knows, better than anyone, just how important his friends, his bonds are – it's far beyond any normal human's comprehension; his _dependence_ on them is far too great. And Ryoji knows, better than any living soul out there, that Makoto would rather die a thousand deaths or be condemned to an eternity in purgatory rather than even letting a single friend _die._

That's just how absurd he is. How kind he is—

—How broken he is.

In the end, he couldn't bring himself to lie. He just tells Makoto what he knows, but not the part where he'd stretch his soul across space itself. And Makoto, being himself, figures that bit out anyway; or at least, figures that something _close_ to that is going to happen.

It pains him to let Makoto do this.

Because his life belongs to not him alone, but to everyone he's forged his bonds with. Ryoji knows he will _not_ let any of them come to harm. He knows that if Makoto forgets them, it will break him.

But, despite his earlier resolve to let Makoto retain his reasons of being, he still tries, pleading on deaf ears to kill him, to forget about everything and live his final days in peace.

Because he doesn't want his beloved (love is beautiful, and it _hurts_ so much he wants to curl up and cry) to be in pain, to suffer. He wants him to at least be at peace, when the time comes.

Peace based on lies, lies, _lies_.

"Makoto, please—" He tries again, desperate, voice trembling. "I don't want _you_ to be in pain."

"Neither I you," Makoto says instantly, firmly, and Ryoji looks up. He hasn't expected that; why would Makoto still care so deeply when he's just a Shadow, a Harbinger, the bringer of the end? "You're a dear friend, Ryoji. I don't want to fight you, either, but you're already chosen as an Appriser, and I can't allow you to complete your role. And trust me, I don't want to die. But my desire to see them live and prosper, to see the world blooms and blossoms, outweighs such things as fear of death."

 _I love you_ , is what he wants to say, deep down.

"I'm sorry," Is all he gets out.

Makoto then shakes his head. "You didn't choose this, you simply _are_. I hold no grudge against you."

He _cries_.

_I want you to live. I want you, who's so kind yet so wronged, so gentle yet so broken, to live longer than this. I don't want you to suffer anymore._

_I don't want to see you in pain._

* * *

He nestles the warmth of Makoto's arms around him near his heart as the Promised Day comes ever closer.

Makoto is so warm. He wants nothing more than to freeze that moment into a globe of indestructible snow and crystal and instills it into his heart forever. But this — remembering, that is — is all he could do, now.

Soon, he'd be reabsorbed into Nyx, becoming naught but an Avatar that'd act according to her will. He knows this, and he doesn't want to. But the choice, _this_ choice, is not his—

—He wonders, is there anything else he could've done?

"Perhaps there is."

He blinks, surprised, and finds himself in the blue elevator that's forever ascending towards the unknown. His shoes scruff the soft, velvety carpets, his back against the cold, hard wood, his eyes looking at two figures; one with deep blue dress, golden eyes, and a thick leather-covered book. The other, the speaker, is in a suit, hands clasped, long nose as prominent as his soul-piercing eyes.

"What—"

"Welcome, to the Velvet Room," He says, bowing slightly. "It is quite a surprise, but still within our expectation, for us to meet, Mochizuki Ryoji-san."

"…Who are you?" He asks, unsure.

"I am Igor, and this is Elizabeth," He says. "We're the ones who've been providing aid to your other self, Ryoji-san. And you have a part of him with you—which is why, during these final days before the end, you're allowed entry here."

A part of him—

"You… you've been helping Makoto," He whispers, more a statement than a question.

"Yes, and this time, _you_ shall be the one to help him," He says, snapping his fingers and calling forth the Arcana of _Death_ – _his_ Arcana. "Your bond with Makoto-san is as real as any he's shared with others, do not ever doubt it. And with this bond, you may be able to aid him, just once more."

"I'll do it," He says quickly, afraid of letting this chance go. "I'll help him. No matter what."

"You're Nyx, and yet, you're still _you_ ," Igor says. "Do you know why it is so?"

It doesn't take him long to piece it all together. True, he should've been reabsorbed into Nyx by now, but he's still _him_ , his _attachments_ to the world is still here—

"Because… I do share a part of me with him, and his with me," He breathes.

"Indeed," Igor nods. "You're connected by Fate; he harbored you inside his soul, which makes a part of you seeped into him, and vice versa. This connection might allow you to aid him just yet. I'm only here to remind you of its existence; whether you stand by and let him fight by himself, or push him forward with the humanity he's given you, is entirely your choice, Ryoji-san."

He doesn't even need to _think_. "I'll help him with all I can. After all… that's what _friends_ would've done, right?"

_That's what you'd do for someone you love so dearly, isn't it?_

Igor smiles, but says nothing.

"The time has come," The woman, Elizabeth, says. "Farewell, Mochizuki Ryoji-san. And do greet Makoto-san for me, when it is his time."

"I will."

He's given a chance to help him carry out his miracle.

And he'll gladly do it, even if it hurts, even if it's painful.

Because they're connected. And he'll not allow Makoto's bonds – his _life_ – to bend and break.

* * *

He couldn't help but usher Makoto back down to the world of the living, to carry out his promise, just one more time, because he _knows_ Makoto would want to.

Still, he wishes there's something he could've done, some miracle he could've conjured.

Then, he remembers something—

Nyx and Erebus aren't the only _Primordial Gods_ out there.

There may be ones who'd have the power to alter fate, power to give life, power to give Makoto a chance just yet.

He isn't even sure where to begin, how to look, or what steps he has to take. He doesn't know if one month will be enough time for him or not, or even if it'll be in this lifetime.

But he wants Makoto to live—just like a normal boy, broken yet so kind. He deserves a better fate than living most of his life abused and scared, and finding love only for it to be stripped away a few months later like this.

Fate is cruel, and he wants to change it.

Ryoji ( _Hah, he's still referring to himself as Ryoji, somehow_ ) doesn't know if it'll work or not, he doesn't know whether striking deal with a _God_ would be wise or not, but he has to try.

For Makoto's sake.

He regrets so many things in his short life; from his inability to help while Makoto was crying and in pain, to his inability to preserve his happiness, to his powerlessness to let him live. He regrets not being able to act out on his feelings, to tell him so. He regrets not being able to stay by his side until the very end.

So, this once, he'll try to the best of his ability. Even if he has to trudge through hellfire itself, he wouldn't have cared.

He wants Makoto to experience more than one spring.

Maybe in a month, a year, a decade, a lifetime—

—If Makoto wants it, then he'll make it happen.

His life has been full of kindness and sorrow, of joy and suffering. He just wants to tip the scale a little more, just once, for the man who gives him his humanity, for the man who gives him his _heart_.

Once more. This time, _he_ will be the one to _find_ that miracle.

No matter how long it may take, no matter how steep the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo yeah! Complicated relationship but not really. More like one-sided love? :D
> 
> Next chapter is the World, folk! Prepare your tissues!


	24. XXI: At World's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So," She says after pausing to chew on a miniature onigiri in his bento, her own completely forgotten. When he turns to her, she continues. "The garden?"
> 
> He just nods behind her. She turns around to see a small, neatly hidden garden right beside the door to the roof. Much to her surprise, most of the flowers are white and pink, sprinkled with a bit of blue. Yuuki, also to her surprise, says, "Someone put that there. Barely get any watering, so I guess why not."
> 
> "…Huh, I didn't know our school have something like this," She hums. "It's beautiful."
> 
> "Yeah."
> 
> They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting there, with her stealing from his box, and him enabling her.
> 
> It feels nice. It feels like—
> 
> —Home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, you guys are awesome!
> 
> This is... yeah, this is slow angst designed to burn you down to a crisp. Noticed that I've updated the tag, sorry about that, at first I was not going to do "that" but ended up doing it anyway lol
> 
> Cheers! Here you go!

**_XXI: At World's End_ **

_World: Fulfillment, Harmony, Completion_

_Reversed World: Incompletion, No Closure, Emptiness_

* * *

Yukari wakes up sour all over.

She doesn't even remember _why,_ but her body is aching like crazy as if she's been beaten up by forces unknown or something. She groans and gets up, hand slapping the alarm clock hard. She rubs at her eyes and staggers to the closet, picking up her clothes and grabbing her shower items before heading out towards the bathroom, yawning, her legs arching, her fingers numb.

She spies Kirijou talking with Sanada and – _who the heck is that?_ – in the lounge and just shuffles out of their lines of sights; they're always so intense it actually scares her sometimes. She doesn't want to be under their gazes, thank you.

Before she reaches the shower, she crosses path with one of the Dorm's most reclusive resident; Yuuki. It's weird to see him down here this early, but she just shrugs—she doesn't care about other's schedules that much, anyways.

He gives her a strange look as he nods slightly, acknowledging her with a whisper. "Morning."

"Morning," She mumbles, rubbing at her eyes again. "You're early."

"Couldn't sleep last night," He replies softly. Huh, she doesn't even know he could talk longer than a few words. He then, much to her surprise, adds, his face as passive as ever. "Are you alright?"

"Nope. I'm hurt all over, and I don't even know _why_ ," She grumbles, shuffling slowly pass him. "Gotta shower now, or I'm going to miss archery. See you."

"Okay," He says, bowing his head slightly at her again as he walks up the steps and out of sight.

Her eyes follow him a while longer. A tiny voice in her head says something's not right.

It's like she has forgotten something important.

She just shrugs; she's got no time to waste.

* * *

She, surprisingly, sees Yuuki again on the monorail.

He's leaning against the glass pane, hands in his pockets, his school bag tugged under his arm. He's wearing the headphones, and she could hear faintly the song that's unknown to her, yet oddly familiar, as if she's heard it thousands of times before.

His eyes are looking out the door, to the shimmering ocean, his face calm. But she thinks something's off with his expression. What, though? She couldn't really tell.

None of her friends is in this car, sadly, so she just decides to walk over to him. Among the residents, she's close with only Fuuka and Junpei. Yuuki, on the other hand, is a total stranger. He's reserved, he's flat and almost apathetic, so it's hard to get any conversation going with him. But, since they're going to be sharing the Dorm for the next year, she figures talking to him now would be as good a time as any.

"You're early," She says as she stands beside him.

It takes him so long that she thought he hasn't heard that phrase, and is about to repeat herself when he says quietly. "Yeah."

"Club activities?" She asks.

He turns to look at her, his eyes unreadable, but they are strangely soft. He just shrugs a little. "No. But I figure… I might take care of the garden a little."

"…Didn't know you're the flowery type," She says, surprise. He doesn't strike her as the type to do, well, _anything_ , except studying and sleeping.

"Someone taught me to be," He hums, with a subtle quirk of his lips. He then looks away and out the window again. "She also taught me their meanings."

" _She?_ "

"Mhm," He hums softly, expression forlorn, as if remembering a bittersweet memory. "She's… well, she's someone I love dearly."

Now this is new. "Oh… so, like, your girlfriend?"

There's a pause, and he chews his lips a little. In the end, he lets out a puff of laughter. "I think… we're more than just that."

"Aww, that's so sweet!" She coos, giggling slightly, elbow nudging his ribs. "When will I get to meet this _she_ of yours?"

He remains quiet for a moment before whispering, his voice soft and… pained. "I dunno."

"Uh… I'm sorry, if I brought up something—"

"It's alright," He says, lifting up a hand. To make a point, he shrugs a shoulder. "It's not that something bad has happened. I just don't know when she'll…"

"Return?"

"Kind of, yes," He nods.

"Tell me when she does," She says, bouncing on her feet slightly. Talking to him feels pretty nice, if she's to be honest. Maybe she should strike up a few conversations with him later. "I want to meet her."

He smiles. "I will."

* * *

She finds him on the rooftop that afternoon.

The cafeteria is crowded as hell, and she doesn't want to deal with Tomochika and Junpei's bullshit today, too exhausted and too hurt. So she figures, maybe, the roof would be unoccupied, and she could eat her lunch (which is starting to cool down, damnit) in peace up there.

They look at each other for a few minutes before Yuuki just shrugs. He turns back to the bento in his hands and continues to eat. She then notices him wearing gloves, even when the weather is no longer biting and freezing. She just ignores it.

"…May I join you?" She says as she closes the door. The spring wind feels pretty nice, and there are enough space for the both of them.

He doesn't turn to look, but nods, scooting to the edge of the bench — even though she could've just taken the other vacant stone seat — and pats the space there lightly, as if to invite her.

She takes it, walking over and sitting down with a distance between them, leaving both their personal spaces untouched. He doesn't start the conversation with her, and it doesn't seem like he will anytime soon, so she just leaves him be as she eats in peace, the only sounds to ever reach her ears the rustling of leaves and the whistling of the wind.

Halfway through her meal, she decides to break the silence, comfortable as it is. "Why are you up here, Yuuki-kun?"

He seems to contemplate her words a little as he takes another careful bite. "The wind feels nice."

"Same," She hums, taking a sip from her bottle. "Where did you get that bento?"

He blinks, looking down. It takes him a while. "Uh… I cooked it?"

"You _what?_ " She exclaims as she scoots closer to take a peak. The meal is simple enough, but it smells really, _really good_. "It smells nice. Looks nice, too! I didn't know you have a knack for this kinda thing!"

He shrugs. Then, he turns to look at her fully, the bento thrusted in her direction. "Want to try?"

"Sure!" She beams. It's surprising to see him being so open and so considerate, since she's known him to be some of the _worst_ at social interactions. She takes the spare chopsticks he offers and picks out a piece of delicious-looking grilled salmon then bites at it. She hums. "Mm! Taste good!"

"Glad you like it," He hums. His expression is still a bit hard to read, but he seems amused.

"So," She says after pausing to chew on a miniature onigiri in his bento, her own completely forgotten. When he turns to her, she continues. "The garden?"

He just nods behind her. She turns around to see a small, neatly hidden garden right beside the door to the roof. Much to her surprise, most of the flowers are white and pink, sprinkled with a bit of blue. Yuuki, also to her surprise, says, "Someone put that there. Barely get any watering, so I guess why not."

"…Huh, I didn't know our school have something like this," She hums. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah."

They spend the rest of the afternoon sitting there, with her stealing from his box, and him enabling her.

It feels nice. It feels like—

— _Home._

* * *

Who the heck is that?

"Who's that?" She asks Junpei, eyeing the imposing man she saw talking with their seniors just this morning, his dark red overcoat covering down to his knees. But despite his intimidating posture and a face with a constant scowl, he's _smiling_ , at Yuuki, no less!

"Huh? Oh, you mean Aragaki-senpai?" Junpei says, crossing his arms slightly. "He moved here during late August, remember? He's friends with Sanada-senpai and Kirijou-senpai."

"Oh," Is all she manages to say as she watches the two of them — who she just _knows_ are probably one of the most socially inept people in _Port Island_ — talking and _smiling_ together. "They look pretty close."

"Surprised me, too," Junpei says. "Don't even know _when_ they got close. Don't even know they _are_ close, man. Kinda surprising, huh?"

"Yeah."

She watches them a while longer, with the older boy's smile full of fondness and _sorrow_ , deep within the kind light. Yuuki's smile is also strange; not only does he rarely smile, but his eyes don't match it at all. It's full of both happiness and regrets, of joy and fear, of things untold.

She tears her eyes away and walks back to her room, dropping her bag onto the bed and flopping down, face buried into the pillow. The day has been normal so far, but she feels _weird_. It's like she should have known something, like she's forgotten someone important, someone so incredibly dear. It's like a part of her is missing, her heart hollow, her soul incomplete.

She sighs and rolls around. She tries to think, she really does, but nothing comes to mind. It's all fuzzy and foggy, at best. Shaking her head, she gets up and starts undoing her bowtie—

…When did she buy a hairpin like that?

She reaches for it, fingers tracing along the cool metal, along the black pin, along the imitation of the wisteria. She tilts her head slightly, still not quite sure where she got it. Kyoto, maybe, but she's sure she isn't the one who pick it up herself.

But, for some reason, it feels… like it belongs here. She hums, trying it on, tugging the pin above her left ear. And, strangely enough, it feels like she's worn it there many times before, warm fingers brushing her hair away and touching her ear lightly as—

— _Whose fingers?_ Her own?

She frowns. She couldn't recall whose touch it was, or rather, she couldn't recall _anything_ relating to this wisteria pin at all. But looking at it fills her with _joy_ , and with love. So she just leaves it there in her hair and changes into her private attire before heading back down.

Again, she meets Yuuki on the lounge of the second floor, gray eyes looking at the vending machine contemplatively, hands tugged inside the pockets of his brown winter coat. He turns her way and offers her a small bow before freezing, his eyes widening slightly. She just tilts her head as she walks over.

"What?" She asks, making him blink.

His eyes aren't on her face, but next to it. It takes her a moment to realize that he's looking at the hairpin. She waits for a little while, and then he murmurs. "That pin…"

"Huh? Oh!" She exclaims, finger tracing the wisteria shaped steel lightly. "I found it. Looks like someone bought it for me a while ago. It's beautiful."

He just blinks a few times before his lips turn slightly upward into a small, genuine smile she rarely ever sees. He then hums lightly. "It is."

"What're you getting?" She asks, nodding towards the machine Yuuki seems to have already forgotten.

"…Black Coffee," He says. "I usually brew one—"

"You can _brew?_ "

"…Shinjirou-senpai taught me," He says, an amused smile on his lips, as his eyes scan the content of the machine again. "…But the machine broke. He's out buying a new one right now."

"I'd recommend BOSS no-sugar black," She says, pointing at the one. His eyes follow. "I don't usually do coffee, but my dad _loved_ this one."

"I see," He says, his voice so soft and so kind. He presses the button and bends down to pick up the can. He quickly uncaps it and takes a sip, a delighted hum escaping his lips. "Mm. This is good."

"Men and coffee," She says, shaking her head. "Why do you even need to drink one now anyway? It's not even past sunset."

"I'm sleepy," He replies, taking another sip. "And I've got things I need to do."

She's not going to pry more than that. She has no need to know, and she's not interested _much_ , either. She just shrugs. "Suit yourself. Well, see you later."

She doesn't miss the forlorn look in his eyes as his gaze follows her, but she just ignores it.

He's just a weird guy.

It's probably nothing.

* * *

Yuuki's a really strange person who's so much softer and kinder than she thought.

It's the little things, but the way he talks slowly, as if always thinking them through, or the way he would be careful with how he handles things, or how soft his voice is when he talks; they all show her just how kind, how gentle, he really is.

It's a strange thing to witness, but not at all unpleasant.

She's still curious about some things; like how he always look so sad and yet content at the same time, or how he always wears gloves even when he's inside the dorm. It's also the little things that makes her curious, that makes her wants to know more.

On Sunday, she catches him cooking alone (she usually sees him with Aragaki, the scary one) in the kitchen, Koromaru barking happily up at him. She knocks the wall slightly, and he hums before turning around. He gives her a slight, gentle smile before saying. "Good morning."

"Morning," She says, walking a bit over to take a closer look. "What are you doing?"

"Feeding Koromaru," He replies, turning off the stove and using the spatula to pick up the grilled meat into the dog bowl. "Shinjirou-senpai will be back later, and I think Koromaru's hungry."

"You're really close with Senpai, huh?" She muses, not missing his constant use of the man's first name. "Kinda surprising, since he looks really scary."

"He's kind," Yuuki says, taking off his apron and kneeling down, patting the Shiba Inu's head lightly as he puts the bowl down. He then speaks softly to the canine, his hand rubbing the dog's snout fondly. "I'm not as good as he is, but I hope you like it."

 _"Woof!"_ The dog barks, wagging his tail. Yuuki lets out a soft chuckle that sounds pretty nice against her ears as he murmurs soft encouragements while the canine dives into the food.

After a moment, he gets up with a grunt, kicking his legs slightly as if to shake off something. He then turns to her. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No," She says. "What, you gonna cook for me?"

"If you want me to."

At first, she thinks he's jesting. But after a pause, she realizes that he's actually _offering_ to cook for her, someone he barely knows, a friend who's not even that close. But she doesn't question it; the notion of eating his cooking is a pretty interesting one, and since he offers, she sees no reason to refuse. With a shrug, she says, "Why not?"

"Any preference?" He asks, unfolding the apron and putting it on again.

She just smiles. "Surprise me."

He hums, seemingly amused, before he goes over to the cupboards and lays out ingredients onto the counter, humming the same tune she had heard on the monorail a week ago. She closes her eyes and listens to his voice, soft and careful. She finds herself tapping her fingers along as he goes about cooking up her surprise breakfast.

"So," She begins, the sound of boiling water and simmering oil no more than background noises. When he hums a bit louder to acknowledge her word, she continues. "I'm a bit curious. Why would you cook for a friend you barely know?"

He doesn't answer right away as he does things she doesn't even know needs doing. After he puts a cup of rice down, he says, "I don't see why not. I'm free, and cooking takes my mind off things."

"What things?" She asks, a cheek in her hand.

"Curious thoughts. Morbid thoughts," He answers, his voice steady. "Convoluted thoughts."

"So… kinda like OCD, or something?"

"Kind of," He parrots. "They're not that bad, but they take up my mental health sometimes."

She snorts. "I can imagine."

"And why are you interested? In my cooking, I mean," He asks back, mirth dancing in his pool of steel gray.

"The one on the roof tasted nice," She says with a small shrug, hand absently petting Koromaru as he comes over, nudging her hand with his snout. "And I don't see the harm."

Silence befall them after that.

It's not awkward, just a bit strange. There's a sense of calmness in the air, and like on the roof a week ago, it feels like _home_. It's warm and fuzzy, and it makes her mind and body relax. It's strange, to feel this comfortable around someone she barely knows. A voice is nagging at the back of her mind, saying that something is wrong, that she's forgotten something, but she could never put a finger on what, exactly.

Her fingers reach up to touch the hairpin she's now wearing everyday. It feels _right_ , it feels like it belongs there, and it's such a strange thing. _Someone_ bought this for her, she's certain. Someone very dear and very kind. Warm fingers brushing her hair away, soft lips pressed against her forehead as she's lulled back to sleep—

She stops. What is she feeling? When was that?

Before she could muse on it further, a plate is set before her; Takikomi Gohan. She blinks.

"This is my favorite! How did you know?" She says, grabbing the chopsticks and taking a bite. "Ooh, this tastes just right, too!"

"Lucky guess," He says with a small smile, placing a bowl of porridge on his side of the table. He puts his hands (still gloved) together and murmurs, with his eyes closed. " _Ittadakimasu_."

"Why do you wear gloves all the time?" She inquires, taking in another bite. She also questions the way he eats slowly, or the way his fingers tremble minutely, or the way he seems so unfocused sometimes, or the way he uses his left hand to eat, and not his right. "It's not that cold outside."

At this, his expression turns somewhat pained. It takes him a moment, but he does answer, his voice quiet. "…Hand's scarred. Don't want people to see."

Something urges her to push a little more. "Can I?"

He just looks at her, eyes scrutinizing. She keeps her gaze firm as she reaches for his right hand. He jerks slightly, but doesn't pull away. When she looks down at it, his fingers are shaking, and he curls them a little when her fingers tug at the edge of the glove carefully.

He looks away, mouth pressed into a thin line. But he nods, after a moment. She hums and slowly pulls the glove off—

—Revealing blackened scars and crooked fingers.

She instinctively traces them, careful, frowning just minutely. "…Does this… hurt?"

He shakes his head and pulls his hand away, quickly tugging it inside his glove again.

"Yuuki-kun…"

"It's okay," He says, a gentle smile on his face. A smile that seems so familiar, and yet… "It doesn't hurt. I'm alright now."

It feels more like a lie than a reassurance.

But she doesn't know what to say, so she just leaves it at that.

* * *

He approaches her again on Valentine's day.

They still talk like usual, but the knowledge of his hand being so scarred makes her heart aches, even when she has no idea how he got it. He never told her about it, so she leaves it be.

When she's with him, she feels safe, satisfied, content. It's weird feeling so relaxed and so happy around someone she barely knows, but she doesn't question it. Instinct can be weird sometimes, she knows this.

So when he walks up to her on Valentine's day after school and asks her to follow him, she does without hesitation. He leads her to the rooftops, where the sunlight and the breeze is warm, where the city is decorated by glistening light, the ocean by the shimmering blaze. When they reach the stone bench, he turns to her with a gentle smile.

"Don't worry, it's not chocolate," He says, motioning for her to put her hand forward.

She snorts a laughter and does so, palm facing the sky, waiting for something to be put there. "You jerk. You should be giving out chocolate and not leaving me hanging today, you know."

"Traditionally, it's the girl who'd give one out, no?" He says, pulling something out of his brazer. "But this is unrelated. I know you don't see me that way."

"I don't," She says, and the words taste so _foul_ in her mouth she has to wrinkle her nose a little. "So, what is it?"

"Here," He puts a small box no more than four inches in size in her hand, the velvet texture of the cover brushing her fingertips. When she looks up at him, puzzled, he just smiles. "It's locked."

"…Then why would—"

"You'll know when and how to open it," He says quietly, the sorrowful look returning to his face. He then pushes her hand back towards her chest slightly before, to her surprise, wrapping his gloved fingers around her own and squeezing lightly. "Just wait until then."

"Why don't you just give it to me when it's time instead of… I dunno, leaving me hanging?" She says, looking down. Even through the gloves, his hands are so _warm_.

He doesn't answer that question and promptly changes the subject. "So, there's that, I guess."

"You guess, huh?" She repeats, putting the box inside her bag. "Where are you going next?"

"Grocery," He mutters, slightly embarrassed. "I'm going to help Shinjirou-senpai cook up dinner for everyone at the dorm today."

There's a beat of silence, awkward and unsure. In the end, she breaks it with a small smile. "I can go with you, you know."

"It's boring as hell," He states, rummaging through the bag with a scowl. "It's just grocery. You can head back to the dorm first."

"I still gotta wait for dinner anyway, so I'm coming with you," She says, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along. "Come on, slowpoke!"

He looks at her for a while before cracking into a warm, gentle smile that's somehow taking her breath away.

"Okay."

* * *

"Sorry for the wait!"

Yuuki says as they enter the dorm, with the residents sitting together in the lounge, probably waiting for the dinner. He gives the rest a short nod of his head before jogging over to the kitchen, where she could faintly hear a few playful banters from him and Aragaki. She puts the bags down on the kitchen table before joining the rest on the couch.

"Shinji's strangely lively, huh?" Sanada comments, arms crossed. "Never seen him _happy_ with someone else before."

"You're right," Kirijou hums, pushing a cup of tea towards her. She thanks the heiress as her eyes shift towards the kitchen. "I don't think I've seen the two of them interact before this, too. I wonder when they even get so close."

"Beats me," Sanada mutters. "But hey! We get to eat his cooking, so it's a plus."

"I didn't know he's the type to cook well," Junpei says. Amada carefully avoids his arm as the older boy waves around. "And I don't even know Makoto can cook well! He's _way_ too talented!"

"I can confirm, his cooking is _heavenly_ ," Yukari says, remembering all the strange meals he'd cook up when given the time.

"Oh, I can also attest to that," Fuuka giggles. And then, she adds, "He might look detached, but deep down he's a sweet person, isn't he?"

"You tell me," Yukari hums, taking a sip from her cup before she catches Fuuka looking her way. "What?"

"I've been meaning to ask for awhile now, but… where did you get that pin?" Fuuka says, pointing at her ear, at the purplish wisteria pin.

"I dunno," She says truthfully, fingers gently tracing the outline. She frowns a little, flashes of images and illusions of warm touches invading her mind yet again. She just shrugs it all off. "I don't remember, but I think someone bought to for me. Maybe during Kyoto trip."

"Kyoto, huh…"

They all fall silent, as if contemplating something. Kyoto had been fun, Yukari remembers; the sunset adorning the riverside, the traditional hotel room, the view from the temple, the colorful leaves falling to the ground. There were also some shenanigans at the hot spring when they encountered the boys—

…What the—?

She's suddenly snapped out of the musings when Yuuki and Aragaki start decorating the table with plates after plates of food, the aroma invading her senses and drawing her towards the dining room without allowing her thoughts. She just giggles a little before seating herself next to Fuuka, the multicolor-hued food making this all the more surreal.

Yuuki sits opposite from her, apron neatly tugged under his armpit, with Aragaki right beside him. The older boy pats his head lightly before handing him a chopstick. Before she could say anything, Sanada speaks up, clearly amused. "I didn't know you can _show_ your softness around others, Shinji."

"Oh, shut the _fuck_ up, you protein junkie," Aragaki growls, but there's not much bite behind his words. He just roles his eyes before gesturing towards the meal before them. "Dig in, yer lot. To all us singles with no boyfriends nor girlfriends."

"That's just _rude_ ," Sanada says, crossing his arms.

"Oh yeah? Then show me your significant other, then."

"I—" Sanada frowns a little, then he growls. " _Fine_ , you win."

Yuuki closes his eyes and laughs lightly, the sound is like music to her ears. A part of her _misses_ his soft laughter, misses his _smile_. But why? She isn't even that close with him, and it's only these past few days did she have the chance to witness this hidden side of him. Why would she even miss something she's barely seen?

And, once again, her thoughts are cut short when Junpei raises his glass of water. "To us singles!"

She joins in, laughing at the light atmosphere around them.

She then shoves those nagging thoughts to the back of her mind.

They're probably nothing.

* * *

He looks weak.

It's not immediately noticeable, at first, but comparing him from the beginning of February to the third week of the month, he seems weaker, paler. He seems easily tired and is often out of breath, too.

His participation in the PE class has become noticeably less, and the pace of his steps whenever she catches him is much slower than she's used to. To her, it also looks like he's in pain all the time, wincing at every little voice, gasping at almost every little hit on his body. She tries to ask him if he's okay once or twice, but drops it when he seals his lips tight.

It bothers her to no end, especially when she saw him gasping for breath after climbing up just a few sets of stairs. She hadn't meant to look, but she was coming back from meeting her senior in the archery club, and he was there, gasping, beads of sweats rolling down his face, his eyes unfocused. But when she walked over and asked if he's okay, he just shrugged it off and said everything's fine.

He's totally _not_ fine, but she isn't too close with him. And she, frankly, shouldn't have cared much, anyway.

After the bell rings, the students start to leave, with Junpei and Tomochika already sprinting out the door, planning on drowning themselves inside the arcade, probably. She just shakes her head, and is about to leave herself when she spots Yuuki still sitting there, his head in his hands, his breath shaky and shallow, a bit faster than normal.

She takes a long look before touching his shoulder lightly, and he jerks his head up, looking at her, his eyes hazed. He blinks the fog away and narrows his eyes slightly. His mouth moves a little, but no sound comes out. She sighs and decides to start the conversation herself. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"

"…A little," He confesses, leaning his head back into his palms, sighing a bit loudly. "I'm… going to stay here awhile. I'm nauseous."

"…Okay," She says, then pauses a little. She thinks it's more than just being a little nauseous, and a voice is nagging at her to stay. Besides, he's still a friend, as distant as he is, so she sits back down, drawing a surprised hum out of him. "Just tell me when you want to leave."

"You don't have to stay," He murmurs, his voice rough. "I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"It's just a few minutes," She counters, crossing her legs and leaning against the backrest of her chair. His gray eyes are, much to her surprise, _beautiful_. Not like the night sky, but like a well-polished granite, shining and warm. She frowns a little at the thought, then wipes it away. "I can wait. I've got nothing to do today anyway."

"…I see," He murmurs, burying his face back into his hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, I want to stay here," She shrugs. "You seem like you need help."

He lets out a puff of humorless laughter, but says nothing more after that.

She takes this time of silence to watch him closely, something she hasn't been doing before. For the past three weeks, she's been seeing sides of him she's never seen, and the more she does, the more sense of _dread_ she feels. Even though they're _far_ from being close friends (using the word _friend_ is already a stretch on its own), there's this sense of worry reserved in her heart just for him.

His breathing is ragged, and there's some soft, barely audible occasional whimpers following some of his breath. His hands are trembling just minutely, and he's still sweating. His eyes are glued to the table, but they are unfocused. His brows are scrunched, as if in pain. He looks weaker, and it makes her worry.

Suddenly, he plants his hands on the table and gets up shakily. She follows quickly, a hand on his arm, steadying him. He gives her a small smile, eyes slightly squinted, as he staggers to his feet fully. He doesn't move for a while before letting out a puff of air. Then, he says, "I'm better now. You can… go on ahead. I'll follow."

"We can walk home together, if you'd like," She offers, the nagging feeling getting sharper and much harder to ignore. It's telling her she shouldn't let him off her sight, no matter what.

He frowns. "…I have to go to Naganaki Shrine. We can… go to Iwatodai Station together, I suppose."

His speech is slowed, she realizes. Pauses for air, and reluctance in his intonation. She frowns a little, unsure of what to make of the information in hand. "…Why Naganaki Shrine?"

"I made a promise," He whispers, eyes looking into some place far, far away. A sad smile graces his lips as he looks at her. "I want to see it through."

The way he words that worries her, but again, she couldn't quite put a finger on it. In the end, she just sighs and shrugs, a hand tight on his arm, fingers careful not to leave a bruise. "I'll walk you to Iwatodai Station. After that, you're on your own."

"Okay," He breathes, relaxing slightly against her palm.

They say nothing else for the rest of the day.

* * *

On the first day of March, he approaches her again.

She's been seeing more and more of him, weakened, pained, exhausted. He's been purposefully avoiding her, but still cooks for her sometimes, and still talks to her when prompted. But something's off, she could tell that much. She hasn't paid him much mind, at first, but worry starts to gnaw at her when she catches him gripping the stair's railing tight, panting, just this morning. He looks like he could fall over any second, but when he's with others, he looks _almost_ normal.

But he's talking slower, _thinking_ slower, walking slower. It's like he's having difficulties with the most mundane things, and every little breath is taken away from him when he does something more than he should, which is too often to be considered normal. She isn't sure what to do about it, what she _should_ do about it. But he said he's fine, so she just dropped the issue, seeing no point in forcing it when he's not even open to receive help.

So, when he comes up to her after a week, the first thing she says is, "Are you sure you're really okay? You look like you could fall over any seconds now. You should go to the hospital."

He just smiles faintly, but says nothing. He stands there, eyes shifting away from her and out the window, at the rustling leaves dancing alongside the whistling wind. She's about to repeat herself when he speaks up, his voice raw, with barely any volume behind it. "There's… something I want you to see."

She tilts her head at that, her worries briefly forgotten. "…What thing?"

"Can you… walk with me today?" He deflects her question again with an offer out of the blue, his hands tugged nervously inside his pockets, his smile still so gentle but so _broken_. It somehow makes her heart aches and _screams_ , that something's not right, that she has to pry further, that she has to do _something_. But she isn't even sure what she's supposed to do, and it's not like he's asking for help anyway.

In the end, she just shrugs. "Sure, I guess."

His smile turns into one of relief, and his hunched shoulders relax slightly. He nods once, his steps a bit unsure as he staggers forward. She's about to grab him, but thinks better of it and pulls away, instead getting up and following behind him.

The train ride is quiet, maybe _too_ silent, but he's not saying anything, and she isn't sure how to even _start_ a conversation with him. He's wearing his headphones, his eyes gazing out towards the horizon, a small smile – so sad, so gentle – on his lips, his fingers drumming along the beats of the tune she's grown accustomed to over the weeks.

When they arrive at Iwatodai, he leads her to the unusual road that'd lead to Naganaki Shrine. She just frowns, but follows regardless, unable to refuse that forlorn look on his face. They are silent as they walk together, a fair bit of distance between them, with him just a few steps in front of her, his posture _weak_ , his steps unsure, his breath uneven.

She really wants to know why it is so, and how can she help, but she's shot down almost every time. At one point, she thinks it got on the nerves, so she just stops caring. She couldn't help keeping watch, however. She sighs and shakes her head; she's really thinking in circles now. Anymore than this and she'll get a headache.

Yuuki leads her up the steps, and walks past the shrine and out the back, leading her to a place that's quite new to her knowledge. She doesn't realize there's a hill behind the shrine before. And as he leads her up higher, her anticipation grows.

The view is absolutely _breathtaking_.

The full view of the city, right before her. The cherry blossom tree is blooming _way_ before its usual time, the pink petals falling and dancing along the cool wind. She lets out a breath, taken by the sight that seems so unreal, so beautiful. She walks a bit around the place, echoes of her steps against the stone following her as she looks around.

"It's beautiful," She says, looking at Yuuki as he smiles at her.

"It is," He says, looking up at the cherry blossoms, reaching out a hand. A petal falls into his palm, and he rubs it between his gloved fingers, gentle as if afraid to hurt it. "Do you like it?"

"Yeah!" She says, smiling brightly. "I don't even know there's a hill here! I should come here during the summer festival this year."

"It'd be… quite a sight, I'm sure," He says softly, walking over and sitting down on the bench just under the tree, relaxing and leaning back against the cold stone. "This is all… I wanted to show you… You can leave… whenever you want."

"I'm just going to admire this a bit longer, I think," She hums, dancing around still. "What about you?"

"I'm going to rest awhile," He whispers, closing his eyes and leaning fully into the seat, his hands clasped together, his shoulders no longer hunched. The sight… makes her heart twinges, somehow, and she doesn't like the feeling. "I'll be back… after sunset, maybe."

"Can I watch it with you?" She blurts out, then frowns afterwards. She isn't even sure _why_ she's saying that, but she just shrugs. Watching the sun leaving the world for the day here sounds oddly romantic, even if her company is less than ideal.

"Of course."

After a while of moving around, she sits down on the bench, a few inches worth of distance between them. Even from here, she could still hear his ragged breathing, see his sweat-drenched face, his matted hair, and the way his chest seems to rise and fall at an incredibly tiring pace. She keeps her eyes on him as his eyes remain closed, his lips slightly pursed as if to control himself.

It makes no sense how he could get worse so fast and without warning. He isn't sick in a common sense, she thinks; there's no fever (his face isn't flushed), no wounds to speak of, no signs of infection to be seen, yet here he is. She wonders what could've caused such a disarray in his body, and she's a bit worried about him; even if they're not close, they're still friends. She probably should've said something about it…

"Hey," She begins, unsure. He opens his eyes slightly then glances her way. When she's sure she has his attention, she murmurs, "Are you okay?"

He smiles and whispers, "No."

She blinks, letting the word sinks in. Then she does a double take before grabbing his shoulder, shaking him slightly. " _What!?_ If you're not alright, then you should go see a doctor! I'll—"

He puts his gloved hand over hers, stopping her dead in her track. His hand is so, so _warm_ , and a part of her is whispering that she _misses_ this. Before she could protest or think on it, he hums, closing his eyes yet again. "It's alright... This, too, will pass."

"Yuuki-kun, excuse me, but you look like absolute _shit_ right now," She says, tightening her grip on his shoulder. "Come on, I'll take you to—"

" _Please_ ," He pleads, stopping her yet again. She looks straight into his eyes, shimmering like stars in the night sky. His smile softens as he lets her hand go, gaze shifting away from her face and to the horizon, where the sun's starting to sink under the skyline. "It'll pass, eventually... I think… I can hold out until then."

She bites her lip. A part of her just _knows_ it's a blatant lie. Something doesn't seem right, but the way he said it, the way he worded it, it makes her stop, it makes her _listen_. In the end, she just sighs and sits back down, hand sliding off his shoulder and back to her lap. A moment passes before she manages to find her voice again, and she speaks up. "Why're you so stubborn?"

"Am I?" Is what he says, soft chuckle rippling out of his chest. It sounds so soft, so gentle, and yet so broken. She wants to correct that, somehow, but she isn't sure _how_.

Much to her surprise, a hand (crooked, warm, gloved) comes up to her cheek and cups it, turning her face slightly to the side. His smile makes her breath catches in her throat, and his touch is so tender, and it feels _just right_ , like it belongs there.

His thumb caresses her cheek a little, his other fingers curling just minutely, making themselves known, but not doing much else. He's pressing his palm against her skin, and even through the material of the glove, she could still feel the softness and the warmth of his hand. His smile is sad, and kind, with a mixture of regret and fondness in it.

For what feels like an eternity, they're locked in that position, with her whimpering just slightly at the intensity of his gaze, and him smiling minutely as he keeps carefully caressing her cheek, drawing little circles right under her eye, fingers ghosting along the line of her jaw. She wants to say something, just a word, _anything_ , but she couldn't bring herself to.

In the end, he pulls away, his eyes shifting towards the horizon again. A few heartbeats later, he murmurs, the wind carrying his words oh-so-softly. "You're beautiful."

"Uh…" She's at a loss for words, stumbling on her own tongue as she does. Ultimately, she decides to settle for a, "Thanks."

Her fingers go up to touch the spot the warmth of his hand still lingers, but she isn't given much time to think as he says, standing up on unsteady legs. "I'm sorry… about that. Just… I've always… wanted to do it, you see."

"…Why?" She asks as the sun disappears from the world, leaving them in the dim light of the moon.

She couldn't see his face anymore, and his words are barely audible, but she manages to pick them up as he whispers. "Because… I love you."

He walks away before she could even comprehend the confession spoken to her in the dark.

* * *

When she sees him again two days later, he's clinging to the staircase, knees buckling and ready to give out under him.

There's no one else at the dorm, presumably having gone out celebrating, or perhaps it is too early to return. She rushes to him and instinctually puts his arm around her shoulders, steadying him, a hand on his chest. His heartbeat is erratic, his breath coming out in gasps, his eyes unfocused. She's about to take him to the hospital, but… she feels like he wouldn't allow her to, no matter what. So, in the end, she just helps him up, waiting for his words.

It takes him a while, but he finally murmurs out softly. "…I'm sorry."

"You really should go to the hospital," She tries again as she helps him walk up the stairs, one step at a time. She shoves the question about his confession away, for now. She could always ask him later. "I could take you there."

He shakes his head, as stubborn as ever. His other hand then finds hers, pressing her palm deeper against his heart as it beats almost in time with her own. His fingers then curl around her hand slightly before he speaks up. "I… might've been a bit… too bold last night. My body… really _hates_ alcohol, now…"

"…You _drink?_ " Is what she ends up asking.

"…A little," He confesses, a huff of laughter accompanying his words. "I'll… be okay."

"If you say so, as unconvincing as your words are," She mumbles.

They reach his room soon after, and his shaky hand fumbles on the locks for a moment before he manages to open the door. She lets his arm slides off her shoulders as he walks halfway in, a hand on the frame to support himself, the other dangling on his side.

He pauses there for a while before turning to her. "Graduation's… two days away, right…?"

"Hm? Yeah," She says, nodding slightly. "Why?"

"I and Shinjirou-senpai… planned on cooking for you all tomorrow… just one last time," He says, turning to her slightly as he breathes. "Tell them that… for me?"

"…Alright, I will," She says. She's planning on loitering in the lounge anyway, so she doesn't see the harm. "Then, see you tomorrow."

"Mhm," He hums, closing his eyes before nodding. "See you."

_Just one last time._

She doesn't like the way he put it at all.

* * *

He looks a _bit_ better the next evening, cooking with Aragaki while the rest of the residents gather around the table, much like during Valentine's Day.

"What's the occasion this time?" Sanada asks, looking quite pleased at the aroma of the food. She, too, is looking forward to the meal. While Yuuki's cooking skill is extraordinary, Aragaki's is in a whole different league, and a chance to enjoy both is _always_ such a pleasure.

"Graduation, of fucking course," He says, eyeing Yuuki slightly as the latter finishes his cooking. "Last chance we got to sit together like this, right? Might as well."

"Sentimentality? From _you?_ " Kirijou muses. "That is indeed quite new, Shinjirou."

"Oh, shut _up_."

"Where did you learn how to cook, Yuuki-kun?" Fuuka asks, leaning forward slightly as Yuuki goes back to the stove, adding the finishing touch.

He seems to smile a little at that, this time genuine, with no sadness behind his eyes. "Shinjirou-senpai has been… teaching me for a while, now. He's… the best teacher."

"Oooh, Shinji, are you _blushing?_ "

"Fuck _off_ , Aki!"

Amada laughs, and the rest soon follow.

They gather around and start digging in, the atmosphere light and happy. It's regrettable that they haven't been doing thing together much as dormmates, but at least they all end in a high note.

She couldn't help but glance at Yuuki from time to time, however. He smiles and laughs as Aragaki (the always scary one who seems so _soft_ around Yuuki) pats his head, ruffling his hair. They give out the air of being brother-like, and maybe having known each other for a good while, now. It's kind of strange, since she thinks she's never seen them together before.

She just shoves whatever questions she has to the back of her mind and continues enjoying the meal with her friends, laughing, chatting idly. Time flies by quickly, and before she knows it, the plates are already cleaned out, and the clock ticks the time away slowly, steadily.

They take some more time to take collective pictures of each other, smiling quite radiantly so, before they all disperses, with both Yuuki and Aragaki refusing help. They insist on cleaning up, saying that it's no big deal for them. After about five minutes of arguing, they just drop it and go back to their rooms to prepare for the big day tomorrow.

She's surprised to hear knocking at her door half an hour later. Thinking it might've been Junpei (who still hasn't returned her study notes) or Fuuka, she goes over and opens the door immediately—

"…Yuuki-kun?"

He's smiling, his posture hunched, brows slightly furrowed as if in pain. She just blinks stupidly a few times, unsure. Before she could say anything else, he speaks up—although, his voice is barely above a whisper, at this point. Speaking _up_ is a bit of a stretch. "…Hey."

"Uh… can I help you?"

He pauses, looking away slightly. After a few deep breaths, he nods, lips pressed into a thin line. "It's… going to sound strange, but… I want to ask a favor… if that's alright with you."

She frowns slightly, but decides to humor him and shrugs. "Sure, I guess… what is it?"

"…Don't slap me, okay?"

She's about to ask what the hell kind of favor is that, but her thought process stops when his hand – _his hand_ , with nothing to cover it, this time – reaches her cheek and cups it, much like the first day of March. His fingers are scarred, crooked, skin charred and blackened, but he's _careful_. His hand is so, _so_ warm, and she shivers as he rubs that spot under her eye softly.

"So, um…" She begins, his confession resurfacing to the forefront of her mind. This seems like as good a time as any to ask him about it. "…You said… you love me?"

He doesn't seem surprise. It's more like he's been expecting her question, since his smile grows just a tiny bit wider, _sadder_ , before he hums, the sound rumbling lowly inside his chest. He doesn't answer right away as he reaches his hand further until his finger brushes her ear, so warm and gentle, before finally tracing that spot above it, at the pin she's been wearing every day for the past month.

He hums again, and she gasps, the feeling clicking inside the back of her mind. The warm, soft touch as someone puts the pin just above her ear, fingers carefully brushing her hair away—

"It was _you_ ," She finally says. He doesn't stop, but he does slow down, fingertips brushing her jawline softly. She thinks, if it's been like any normal circumstances, she would've slapped the lights out of him by now. But she feels the urge _not_ to do that. "You bought me this pin. You're the one who put it there in the first place. It was _you_."

He smiles, nodding once as he breathes. "Yes. It was me."

"Why didn't you say anything?" She says. A part of her is hissing angrily, that _she_ herself should've remembered if someone's bought her something that she feels so strongly towards. She just doesn't understand _her own reactions_. And how could she have forgotten who gifted her something like this? How could she tell that it was him, now?

"You didn't remember," He says as he runs his fingers down her chin, lifting her face up just a little to face him better. "I don't see a reason… to remind you of such things."

"…I still don't," She says, frowning. "Why're you the only one who remember?"

He answers not with words, this time, but with his soft, warm lips pressing against her own.

She gasps; the sensation is new, but it feels like she has felt it before, a lifetime ago. It tastes like fallen snow and moonlight and night sky, so sorrowful yet so kind, bittersweet with both joy and regrets. She opens her mouth slightly, her hands suddenly finding themselves at his chest, gripping his coat, clinging to him. He tips her head slightly backward, forever careful, as he parts her lips more with his tongue, leaving not an inch of her mouth unexplored.

She hums into the kiss, the feeling of nostalgia far stranger than she's ever felt. Her heart beats just a little faster as her legs quiver, ready to give out. She stands firm, feeling the hand on her chin moving down to her neck, resting right above her choker, fingers carefully tracing around it. His other hand finds her waist and pulls her against his chest, against the warmth that she hasn't experienced before, yet her heart seems to _always_ long for.

The kiss lasts for forever before he pulls back first, panting against her lips. She clutches his shirt just a little tighter, refusing his retreat. He looks down at her, gently, kindly, before he whispers against her lips, the sound chilling, sending shivers down her spine and making her breath hitches. "…Thank you, for… not punching me… _Yukari_."

They aren't that close as to start using first name, and yet… it feels just right. It feels like… _home_. She gasps again, her eyes searching his for something; explanation, answers, anything that would allow her to make head and tail out of this situation. But he's giving her nothing. Instead, she lets go of his coat, now crumbled under her grips, and cups both of his cheeks in her hands, keeping his eyes on hers.

"…Who are you?" She asks, not in a sense that people would normally do. She knows who he _is_ ; he's Yuuki Makoto, a stranger who lives in the same dorm, and yet… he feels like so much more. More than just a stranger. More than just _a friend_. "Who are you… _to me_?"

He exhales, closing his eyes and placing both his hands over her own, the grip so tender despite the callous scars on his skin. Slowly, he presses his forehead against hers before murmuring against her lips, his breath hot. "I don't know. But… you are – always have been, always will be – my _everything_."

For him to say that makes her heart _aches_. A storm of emotions is brewing inside her chest with not a way out, and she isn't sure _why_. He's – he's saying that she's his _everything_ , that she means to him far more than he is to her. It's _painful_ , it's unexplainable, but her heart knows this is just _right_ , that maybe, just _maybe_ , she had felt the same way an eon ago, too.

She just looks straight into his eyes as he pulls back, and to her surprise, he presses his lips softly against her forehead, calming her down, making her relax almost against her own will. Then, he says, "It's alright, even if you don't remember… I'll always be there, right beside you… okay?"

"…Why?" She manages out, hands gripping onto his coat, not letting go. "How can I become so important to you when I can't even remember _anything?_ "

"Does it matter?" He asks, tilting his head. "Love… doesn't need to happen both ways, does it? All I know… is that you don't need to be loved in return just to love others… I don't mind if the feelings aren't mutual, you know. You… mean more to me than anything. You're _my_ world, my guiding light, my sun. Even if I'm no more than a stranger to you… you'll always be _everything_ to me."

It's wrong. His reasoning is so wrong, but she couldn't diffuse it, she couldn't say anything against it. All she could do is listen, and try to understand. "I… I don't understand you, Yuuki-kun. I don't understand. It feels wrong. It shouldn't—"

" _Shh_ ," He whispers, a finger on her lips, stopping her. Then, he pulls her into a tight hug, allowing her to feel his beating heart against her own chest. "You don't need to understand now… But I promise you, that… in the end, you _will_."

"I…"

"You gave me this life," He whispers against her ear, his arms tight around her, so gentle, so warm. She feels like she wants to cry. "I owe you everything. So… thank you."

Everything feels wrong. It feels like he's going to go away and it feels like she _has_ to stop him. She's shaking from head to toe, her breath hitching inside her throat. When he pulls away, she grabs onto his sleeve, making him turn back, stopping him. A voice is whispering, scared, _terrified_ , of losing him. Even though they're only friends, even though she barely knows him, she _doesn't_ want to let him go. She feels like if she does, she's going to break into a thousand pieces.

"Please," She whispers, her voice rough, fear and confusion mixing into her tone. "Please, _please_ , don't go away. I don't want you to go away. I don't want to lose you."

He turns back, gently prying her fingers off of his sleeve and grasping her hand in both of his (warm, he's so warm, and infinitely kind) before pulling it up to kiss her fingertips. He then presses a single finger to her chest and says, "Even if I'm not here… as long as you remember me, I'll always be there for you."

She's crying, and then she finds herself clinging to him. "No, no, _no_ , don't say that. Don't say that like you're going away. Don't say that like you're—"

 _Dying_.

It finally clicks; his sudden confession, the kiss, the two weeks of him looking weak, it all makes sense now. And instead of satisfied, she's _terrified_ , she's scared. There's no evidence, but – he's going to _die_ , he is, she can feel it in her bones. He's going to die and disappear—

He huffs, seemingly amused, a hand patting her head. Why is he _amused_ when he's _dying?_ Does he not fear death? How could he be so calm? Questions, questions, they keep running inside her head like a typhoon, sweeping any rational thoughts away from her, and she's still clinging to him like a lifeline. When she thinks he's going to pull away, he pulls her head against his shoulder softly instead.

"It's alright, everything's okay…" He murmurs reassuringly, rocking her slightly back and forth, as if to lull her into sleep, into blissful oblivion that would make her _forget_. "I'm still here, I'm not going anywhere… I'll stay with you… for as long as you want me to… okay?"

She could only nod.

She pulls him inside her room and closes the door, her hands still trembling, her thoughts haywire, unsure, as she leads him to the bed. Then, they just sit there in silence, tears still falling from her eyes. It takes her a while to register that he's wiping them away with his hand, now free from its confinement, and his smile is so soft, so delicate.

She wants to ask. Is he truly dying? If not, will he stay or disappear? When will he be gone and never return? Why? – she wants to ask _everything_. But, in the end, no words come out, only small whimpers. She's scared, uncharacteristically so. Scared of change. Scared of _death_. Scared that he'll leave and—

"Yukari," He whispers her name softly, and she looks up into those pair of steel gray that instantly take her breath away from her. He smiles. "I'm right here."

At that, he brings her hand carefully to his chest, letting her feel his beating heart. Her own frantic breathing seems to calm down a little at that, and she curls her fingers over his coat. Whimpers escape her throat again before she whispers. "Are you… are you dyin—"

Before the question gets out, he silences her with a finger to her lips. She looks up at his eyes, at his smile, as he says, "No more questions tonight. I'm here… I'm _still_ here. And I'll be here… for you. With you. _Always_."

She pulls him closer and kisses him again.

This time, the kiss is desperate, terrified, afraid of letting go. She decides to believe him, just for tonight, that he'll stay forever, that he'll not leave her behind.

She decides to believe in what her heart knows to be a lie, at least, for now.

She doesn't know what else she could've done.

* * *

She wakes up alone in her bed, neatly tugged under the blanket, a piece of paper and a small, silver key tied to a necklace on the table.

She sits up, her mouth dry, her head a mess as she recalls the details from yesterday. She decides to push the sense of impending doom away, decides to still believe in him and his promise that he'll always be there. Instead, she focuses on the piece of paper, her hand reaching for the key as her eyes scan the words written in a neat handwriting that she's never known belong to him.

_I'll meet you at school. The key is for that box I gave you, but don't open it just yet._

_You'll know when to open it when the time comes._

_With love, Makoto._

"Makoto…"

The word rolls off her tongue easily, as if she's been saying it for hundreds, for thousands of time before, but she still couldn't remember. She traces her fingers along his handwriting, which is absolutely _beautiful_ , before she puts the paper down and takes the key into her palm.

It's cool against her skin, the design simple, color pure silver with not a single blemish. It's tied to a black cord, making it some kind of necklace. A part of her is tempted to open the box she's placed on her table and take a peek, but… Yuuki—no, _Makoto_ said to wait, so she will.

She sighs, testing the weight of the key in her hand for a bit before slinging it over her neck and tugging it inside her shirt. It feels like some sort of _memento_ , to her, but she quickly kills that thought off. He says he'll stay, and she's going to believe it.

She sees, at a glance, the blonde transfer student and Aragaki standing in front of his door, but doesn't pay the scene much mind as she makes her way to the school. It's Graduation Day today, and she's not going to be late and getting yelled at for it.

(A part of her is yelling at her to walk over there instead of going down, but her stupid, stubborn head and legs refuse to stop.)

The spring wind is warm, the sunlight just right, and the walk from the school gate towards the building feels so free, so calm. She looks up at the clock at little as Fuuka and Junpei chat idly about. It's already been two years. One more, and she'll graduate and have to leave this place, too. The thought is a bit sad, but she's excited all the same.

When she reaches the assembly hall, she realizes that Makoto's still not here. She chances a glance at Junpei, who's giving her a shrug, signaling that he has not a clue either. She sighs; he did write that he'll be here, so where the hell could he be now? The door's closed, and the speech by Kirijou is about to start, too. She curses a little; if he's late, she's going to _punch_ him when they're back at the dorm.

When Kirijou starts giving the speech, something feels… odd, to her. Her head is a little heavy, and she thinks she's remembering things that she isn't even sure had happened. The name, _Isis_ , comes to her mind, and then the falling moon, the bright red eye, the light. Stone circle, adorned with black feathers scattering like leaves in the wind.

She hears something like a wind chime, ringing softly, and she looks up. Kirijou stops her speech, as well. Junpei follows her eyes to the window, as the cherry blossom petals dance upwards into the sky—

—It all comes back like waves crashing into the shore.

"Makoto!" She exclaims, tears rolling down her cheeks. Memories of him strangling her, of him avoiding her, of him reaching out, of them holding hands, of them smiling, of their loves—it's all _real_.

How could she have forgotten something – _someone_ – so important!?

Before she knows it, she's already out of the door, her legs carrying her forward. She sees the others starting to get up from their seats, and Mitsuru hopping down from the stage, as well. But she couldn't wait anymore. She has to tell him she's sorry, for not remembering, for leaving him alone, for acting like total stranger for a whole damn month.

As the rooftop gets closer, she could feel both anticipation and dread building up in her stomach. The weight of the key is pressed against her chest as she takes two steps at a time, until the door's right in her face. Without pause, she pushes it open, the rush of wind and sunlight hitting her eyes.

He's sitting there, hands between his legs, head resting against Aragaki's shoulder as the older boy has his hand on Makoto's opposite one, as if supporting him. Aigis is close by, her hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. The moment stretches outward into infinity, and then she's running towards them.

Makoto looks up, his face still pale, his eyes still unfocused, but when he sees her, he _smiles_.

His smile is so bright, so gentle, like the morning sun.

And then, he's in her arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" She says into his shoulder, crying, tears staining his uniform. She could feel both Aragaki and Aigis backing away, and she could feel Makoto circling his arms around her lightly, carefully, as if afraid of breaking her. "I'm so sorry! How could—how could I've forgotten something so important? How could I have forgotten _you?_ "

He doesn't say anything. He puts his hands back down and exhales into the crook of her neck. She could feel his lips stretch into a smile against her skin. She _knows_ he remembers, all this time. She's the one who taught him about flowers, the one who'd often dragged him up into the garden on this very roof, the one who made him promise would see the cherry blossom tree at the shrine together with her once the fight is all over.

He remembers _everything_.

"Are you tired?" She asks after pulling back slightly. His eyes are murky and hazy, but he's smiling. He hums with a small nod, so she just sits down beside him and lowers his head down to her lap. He doesn't resist as he blinks slowly, his gaze as gentle as he's always been. She smiles, eyes slightly teary. "I'm here. You can sleep for a bit, okay? I'll be here when you wake up."

He hums, closing his eyes, and relaxes fully. She puts her hand over his, with his fingers interlaced and placed on his chest, feeling the scars and the warmth radiating from them. He murmurs something, but she isn't too sure what.

Oh well, she could just ask him later.

"Sweet dreams, Makoto… I'll always be here, right beside you."

_Everything's alright now._

_They're okay. They will be okay._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah? I've already finished this story btw, so quick updates stem from that.
> 
> And the dang sequels! 60k in and the plot is much, much better than my other story (ahem Darkest Days ahem), holy hell Sexual Disaster Ren is fun to write XD
> 
> Anyways! See you again soon!


	25. XXI: The Universe's Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "…Why Naganaki Shrine?"
> 
> He smiles a little at the question, his eyes shifting towards the far horizon. This moment reminds him of memories that feel like a lifetime ago, where they'd hang back together, fingers intertwined. He wants to hold her. Wants to touch her more than this. But he knows he can't.
> 
> He shifts his eyes back to her and whispers, "I made a promise," To you, who's my everything. Always have been, always will be. "I want to see it through."
> 
> She seems… upset. Maybe it's because the way he said it, or how he looks, but in the end, she just sighs and shrugs, hand careful around his biceps. "I'll walk you to Iwatodai Station. After that, you're on your own."
> 
> "Okay," He hums, relaxing slightly.
> 
> He silently wishes for the cherry blossoms to finally bloom, so that he can say I love you to her, just one more time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hpppf! So... yeah, from Makoto's POV, because I've not done enough damages to y'all yet lolololol
> 
> And I'm sorry, but that sequel still hasn't reached P5R's ending just yet even after 60k in wtf I'm sorry lol Ren is just too fun to write
> 
> Well then! Don't let me keep you! Go break your own hearts at your own perils out there!

**_XXI: The Universe's Farewell_ **

Of course, insomnia decides to fuck with him even after all the fighting he's been through.

He sighs. The others have already gone back to sleep, and by tomorrow, it seems like their memories will either be erased or forgotten. He doesn't really mind it; he's used to loneliness, he's used to the cold shoulders. Just watching them live their lives is enough for him to carry out his two last promises that he still could've kept, but it'll remind him of the ones he couldn't.

Ryoji hadn't said much, but he knows holding on to this piece of his soul even while the rest of him is stretched beyond the scope of his eyes would be painful and exhausting. He thinks it's going to be fine for a while, and he'll start to feel the effects later. He could just deal with it then, but right now, he has to figure out a few things.

Should he tell Yukari that he's going to die? Should he reconnect immediately, later, or not at all?

It's a question with pain waiting at the end, no matter his choices. He knows they'll _eventually_ remember their ordeals, their trials, their bonds… but when will that be? He couldn't have known that. But those questions and what-ifs are unnecessary; right now, he should be focusing on the present. About what he could do to spend more time with them, even a little.

His passing will come, eventually, and he thinks… he wants to leave a solid proof – or _proofs_ – that he was here, that he was alive and had lived a good life. He knows exactly what he wants to do, and thinking about it now, it's _sappy_ as all hell. But he's going to die anyway, so no one's going to care if he's being a bit more emotional than normal, right?

So he just acts like normal. The only change is that no one in the dorm is as close to him as they should – hell, they don't even realize they were friends, since his connections to them ( _all of them_ ) are deeply tied to the existence of the Dark Hour. Without it, the bonds they've shared are sealed away into the pits of their souls, and he's truly alone, in a sense.

What actually surprises him is his chance encounter with Yukari, _thrice_ , in the same day. She doesn't remember she's the one teaching him about the flowers, or the one introducing him to the flowerbed on the rooftop. She doesn't even remember there being a small garden, and yet, here she is, eating from his bento box, smiling, laughing, blissfully oblivious.

It might've been better this way, but he _knows_ better – that if, _when_ , they remember, they'd have liked for him to tell them everything. _She_ would have wanted him to tell her everything. But right now, he just couldn't bring himself to. At the end of the day, all he does is enjoying a quiet lunch with the girl he loves (always have, always will), even if she doesn't realize it, and ends the school hours on a normal, high note.

Once the class is adjourned, he heads for Paulownia Mall, having gotten used to the layout after months and months of coming here for all things and everything, from stationaries to, surprise, _the bar_. He wishes Shinjirou would remember him a little, because he'd love to drown himself in alcohol and pours the vodka down to flood out the sorrow. He sighs (who would've thought he could've become an alcoholic in a few weeks flat?) before heading for the stationary sections of the mall and looks for a few things.

Pens. Papers. Thin diaries. For each of them, there's a tie that bind them together. He wants to express everything he has in his heart, but words won't make it past March 5th, he knows this much. So, he's going to write them all down – all his thoughts, all his joys and regrets, all his happiness and pain. He's going to convey them to the family he has made, and leave them proofs of his own existence.

As for Yukari… he knows exactly what else he wants to give her.

A question he wishes he'd have had the chance to ask, a vow he wishes he'd have had the chance to take, an item that speaks louder than any words he could've said; if he had lived, they might've bound themselves to death together. The idea brings him as much joy as it is sorrow; he couldn't carry it out. But he could still tell her this post-mortem, so he will.

After a bit more shopping, where he just throws his savings away buying things (he earned _millions_ just going in and out of Tartarus, so who cares, right?), he goes back to the dorm, hands full with bags from various shops. Each of his friends are unique, so each gift is thought out, and it took him quite a while to figure the perfect items for everyone.

When he's at the dorm, he goes to the kitchen first to grab a bite before heading up to his room. Much to his surprise, a familiar voice greets him. "Where've you been?"

He turns around to see Shinjirou there, standing tall, hands in his coat. Makoto eyes him a little, unsure, since his interaction with Shinjirou without the Dark Hour is minimal, at best. "…Paulownia Mall."

"I remember."

That makes him does a double take, and a grin splits across the older boy's face as he chuckles lowly. In a manner that's all too familiar, his rough hand finds his head, patting it, ruffling his hair out of place. He laughs a little as the older boy pulls him into a hug. Without missing a beat, he hugs back, burying his face into the red overcoat that's so warm and welcoming.

After a moment, he pulls away, smiling up as the older boy keeps a hand on his head. He doesn't mind it in the least. "But… how? Everyone forgot."

"Maybe because I'm the only one who knows that you're—" At this, he cuts himself off, frowning a little. A cough, then he continues, his voice low. "—Dying."

His smiles sadden a little as he nods. "…I still am."

"Do you know how long you have left?" He says, helping Makoto carrying his things without his consent. When he tries to pry the bags away from the older boy's arms, all he's given is a stink eye, so he backs away.

"I don't know, but… I plan to hang on until Graduation Day," He murmurs, his eyes chancing a glance at Yukari as she laughs with Junpei and Yamagishi. "…My bonds with all of you are so deeply tied to the Dark Hour that, without one, I'm just a stranger."

"Hey, don't say that," Shinjirou says, patting his head again. "I'm still here, dipshit. You ain't getting rid of me that easily. Besides, I'm sure they'll remember before then."

"I hope so, too," He says with a small chuckle.

"Anyways, what're these for?" He asks, but not taking a peek. Makoto quietly thanks him as they make their way up the stairs. "You sure bought a lot of stuffs today."

"Mementos," He replies. At this, Shinjirou frowns, but says nothing. He takes the older boy's silence as a permission to continue. "I'm not sure when they'll – _you_ 'll – remember, so… I plan on leaving something behind. My thoughts, my thanks, for all of you."

"A parting gift for each of us, then?"

"Yes."

Shinjirou chews his tongue a little at this, a small frown settling on his face. When they reach his room, they just stand there in front of his door for a while. When he thinks the older boy's not going to say anything else, the man proves him wrong. "So… if you just want to talk, or want help with anything, just tell me, 'kay? I'll be there."

"Thank you," He says with a smile and a laughter. "Then, meet you at Club Escapade later tonight?"

Shinjirou blinks. "…Wait what."

"I'm in need of a few stiff drinks," He says, putting the bag down on the desk before walking back to the door, a few coins in hands. "I'm going to start writing into those diaries first, then… I think I'm going to drink myself under the table."

"Makoto, wait, hold on, backtrack a bit—" Shinjirou seems to half-splutter at that, taken aback by his sudden request for drinks. He could only let the mirth dances in his expression as the man just looks at him stupidly. "Wait, fuck, are you an _alcoholic?_ "

He shrugs. "I think so."

" _Fuck_ me."

They pause, standing before his door for a few seconds, before they burst out laughing simultaneously. After they catch their breaths, he smiles, bowing his head a little. "Thank you for everything, Senpai. I'm going to be in your care for a month."

At this, his smile falters a little. He reaches for Makoto's head, again, and he still doesn't mind it. "It's alright, I don't mind. Just wish you'd be in my care for longer."

"Yeah," He hums. "Me too."

* * *

After another encounter with Yukari at the vending machine, he's gotten himself even more things to think about.

It seems like the memories are leaking, incomplete, shattered. She doesn't remember that _he_ gave her that hairpin, but her heart seems to know, as she's wearing it even though she usually doesn't like any color other than pink. It makes his heart aches. Fate is indeed a cruel, merciless mistress that would mock you for your own incompetency and your failures.

But… he's not as upset as he thought he'd be. For all the things Fate forced upon him, there are both curses and blessings, mixing together, making his life unique. It hurts to live, but it's also worth every seconds of it, no matter how painful. Even if they all forget (he's so _glad_ Shinjirou remembers), it seems their hearts still remember something, deep down. Now he has hope that they might recall the promise they've made to meet on his final day, and so he has even more reasons to complete his gifts for them.

Even after he's shot, he's always used his right hand to write, since it's much faster than his left. But because he lost much of the dexterity in his fingers, his handwriting became a sloppy mess even he has trouble making heads and tails out of sometimes. But, secretly, he's been practicing with his left. Thanks to all the Tartarus fighting, using his left is not as hard as he thought it would, and soon he improved it enough to be somewhat passable.

He puts as much care as he could into each line, each letter, as he writes his thoughts for all of them. First, addressing everyone in the SEES as a whole in an open letter that he hopes someone will read aloud after they discover it. He smiles a little at each memory, joyous and painful, bright and grim, warm and cold – they all make them who they are today, and he's thankful for everything and everyone.

So, he writes, slowly, carefully, turning his thoughts into words he'll not have the chance to say, so that they may have the chance to see, to _know_ , how much they mean to him, how much he loves them. It's not hard to turn them into words, but it's still painful to know that they won't know he'll be gone until after he _is_. It saddens him that he'll not get the chance to see their tomorrows they've fought together to protect, that he'll not get the chance to live his life with them – and with _her_.

He makes sure to leave a little space, so that he may add more content should the need arises. But the open letter itself doesn't really need any more words than it already has, he thinks. The personal ones that he's intending to write for _each_ of them, however, are different. There are so many things he wants to say, but he isn't sure if he'll have enough time to write them down or not. Still, he could try. He still has a whole month, after all.

A month, to leave evidences of his existence behind. A month, to watch them bloom. A month, to see the world as it is, for the first time.

A month… to live.

He smiles a little at his thoughts, convoluted and morbid, unhelpful. It's how he is, even after his PTSD has improved, even after his baseless guilt is gone, it's just how his mind works. Thinking about things over and over, finding solutions, wishing for things to be different. He couldn't quite change this habit of his, unfortunately.

He puts the pen down. It's already late, and he just knows he won't be able to write anything more down with how tense he is now. He sighs and gets up, donning on his turtleneck and his winter coat before heading out for his late-night destination.

He notes the absence of the usually loud Mutatsu, who has finally left to reconnect with his own family that he's left behind. He smiles a little and heads for the counter, seating himself next to Shinjirou, who promptly slides a shot glass his way. A whiff, and he immediately knows this is pure vodka, his favorite.

"Drink all you want, tabs are on me," Shinjirou says, shrugging. The bartender, who has grown too used to their presences by now, just sighs and shakes his head.

"I think the bartender thinks we're ridiculous," He muses, fingers caressing the glass playfully. "It's a miracle he hasn't booted me out yet."

"He knows a man in need of alcohol when he sees one, that guy," Shinjirou hums. "And I, despite my better judgement, think you can just drink yourself under however much you like."

He laughs lightly. "If that isn't the truth."

They clink their shot glasses together before he downs the content in a single gulp, the hot burn of alcohol washing his worries away, corroding it into the pit of his heart. A tap of his hand, and his glass is refilled, this time almost to the brim.

"What're you gonna do on Valentine's?" The older boy asks. "Since, you know—"

"Writing, probably," He hums, sightly amused. He has an idea in mind already, but after giving her the gift without the key (if she accepts it, that is), there's not much else left for him to do after.

"Wanna cook up a storm?" Shinjirou asks.

He pauses a little. Of course, a meal with all of them, even if they don't remember a thing, still sounds like a solid idea. He _wants_ to see them, even if he's no more than a stranger.

In the end, he nods, chuckling lightly. "Sure. And, maybe… the night before Graduation, too."

"Then it's set," Shinjirou hums. To his surprise, the man raises his glass with a smile, one that's not tainted by sorrow. "To a good month."

He raises his own. "To a good month."

* * *

Cooking has become something of a ritual to him.

He's, surprisingly, a pretty task-focus person. He can drown out almost everything, inside and out, when he cooks. Counting the steps, counting the seconds, preparing the ingredients; they all require delicate dedication, disallowing him spare time for thoughts, morbid and repetitive. It helps him calm down, it helps him forget the rising pain in his limbs and the tiredness in his sinews and bones.

It helps him forget that his friends — his _life_ — do not remember him.

Much to his surprise, Yukari actually agrees to let him cook for her. He knows her favorites by heart, so he needs not recite the recipe or even _think_ about what to do next, with his body moving onwards on its own. It allows him a bit of time to hum out _Burn My Dread_ , the sound resonating inside his eardrums softly.

He couldn't help but smile at how much she _loves_ what he's cooked up, while he himself couldn't eat anything more than porridges since the third day of coming back from Nyx. His stomach churns at even the thoughts of solid food, but he can still endure the smell and the taste sometimes. It allows him to blend in, to act normal, somewhat.

He tries his best to eat, he really does, but each bite almost makes him gag, so he has to slow down. The gloves don't help with eating, either, but he has to wear them. They'll question everything if they see even a glimpse of his scars, and that's not an entertaining thought. He sighs as he continues to eat his breakfast the best he could. He still needs energy to make it to the Promised Day, after all.

"Why do you wear gloves all the time?" She suddenly asks as she takes another bite. He unconsciously curls the fingers of his right hand, the scars making themselves known. "It's not that cold outside."

He takes a moment, frowning, chewing on his tongue as if to find an appropriate answer. But, even without her memories of him, he knows Yukari won't be satisfied with a half-ass excuse, so he just bites the bullet and murmurs. "…Hand's scarred. Don't want people to see."

"Can I?"

He looks at her eyes fully this time, at her firm gaze and her tensed expression. She's _worried_ , minute as it may, and perhaps a little curious. He jumps under his skin when her hand touches his, and then he realizes he's shaking under her grip. When she tries to take the glove off, his immediate reaction is to curl his fingers, to stop her from tugging his barrier away.

He doesn't know what he should do. Should he pull away? Should he let her?

In the end, he simply nods, allowing her to continue.

He doesn't look her way, at first, but turns to face her when he hears a soft gasp. Her eyes are glued to the bullet wound, to his crooked, deformed fingers. She traces the scars with her hand, fingers light and so _warm_ (he misses it. He misses her touches. He misses _her_ ) before she murmurs. "…Does this… hurt?"

He shakes his head and quickly tugs his hand back into its confinement. He's going to make her worry more than she should, and he can't allow that. He _won't_ let her have any worries, for as long as he could, however short that period may be.

"Yuuki-kun…"

 _Please, call my name,_ He silently begs, he wordlessly wishes. _Just call my name, like you used to. Touch me, hold me, kiss me, like you used to. I want you to remember. I miss you._

In the end, he just forces himself to smile, shoving the despair away. It's only one month. Just watching her is already enough for him. He then says ( _lies_ ), "It's okay. It doesn't hurt. I'm alright now."

He isn't sure if she actually believes that one or not, but she doesn't question it further, so he lets it be. He continues to eat, his heart beating painfully inside his ribcage, his fingers so, so _cold_.

He misses her touches. He misses her _everything_.

* * *

Giving her the box makes him want to kiss her even more.

The feeling of her fingers brushing him through the gloves, her sarcastic laughter, her gentle smile, they all remind him of the things he's going to miss sourly. He absently puts a hand on his chest, feeling the silver key – the key to his gift for her – pressing against his skin. It's cold, and he wants to just hand it to her and let her open it, so that he would—

He quickly kills the thoughts off. He's made his choices long ago; that no matter what, he'll not tell her anything unless the time's almost upon them. He'll tell her only when the cherry blossom at the Shrine starts to bloom – _if_ it does. Because, if he doesn't set anything to stop himself now, he's going to end up telling her _everything_ , and she'd be confused and scared, and he doesn't want that to happen.

Instead, he makes it as vague as possible. He knows she's not one to back out of promises made, no matter how absurd, as long as she says she'd keep them. He'll give her the key on the final day, that much he can be certain. And when the letters reach them – then, he'll get to ask his question, and she won't have to give him the answer.

Much to his surprise, she actually decides to tag along to buy groceries with him. He isn't sure why, since he knows she's not the type, but questioning it won't change a thing, so he just doesn't.

The shopping is pretty normal, by his standards; some vegetables, some meat, some seasonings. Yukari, however, is watching him with curiosity that's borderline _nerve-wrecking_. He doesn't mind answering the questions, but he thinks she's being a bit more observant than normal. She seems to frown every time he flinches, every time he draws back like he's burnt.

He knows clinging to the final month is going to be a bitch, but to think it'd start to show halfway through – it's not _unthinkable_ , but it still annoys him. He chances a glance, and sees that indeed, she's watching him. A little bit of worry mixing into her curious gaze as he picks out the last of the seasonings needed for their dinner. He tries to reassure her with a smile before heading for the cashier.

"So," She begins. He turns to her, tilting his head slightly. She seems like she _knows_ something's starting to go wrong, but much to his relief, it's not like she knows _what_ exactly. After a moment's pause, she says, "Why did you pick up cooking?"

The same question she asked months ago, before the October's full moon. He curls his lips into a small smile. This is the question he has no need to lie about. "Distractions."

"From what?"

He's about to answer truthfully, but then he remembers that right now, she doesn't know (doesn't remember) about his… past issues. So he backtracks a little and decides to go for something that's nearest to the truth instead. "Thoughts. Convoluted, morbid, unhelpful thoughts."

"Ah," She hums. "OCD, huh."

He shrugs.

"But you're a pretty good cook," She says, rubbing her chin a little. "I still don't get how you can make one of my favorite dishes with so little interactions with me."

"Beginner's luck, probably," He responds.

"I'd hardly call your cooking _beginner's_ level," She counters.

"It feels like that against Shinjirou-senpai's, though," He replies, scratching his chin a little. He's starting to get used to the gloves, so cooking's getting much easier. Besides… his fingers are starting to get _cold_ , probably because of the Seal. He's going to be wearing it constantly, now.

At this, Yukari seems slightly amused as she giggles a little. "If you say his food is good, then I guess I'll be looking forward to today's dinner, then."

He smiles.

He shoves every other thought away; for today, he's going to live a normal life.

* * *

The fatigue and the pain start making themselves known two days later.

Even if he's mentally prepared, he couldn't possibly have steeled himself for _this_ kind of physical torment; every breath is starting to hurt, even if it's a little right now. Every step is shaken, and it hurts his joints, making them creek and groan. He's used to pain – he's _always_ been used to the pain, from his own hands, from the fights, from his times in the foster homes and the streets. But to feel them constantly with barely any time to catch his breath is quite a tiring experience.

The first one to notice, of course, is Shinjirou. The only one who's been staying by his side, keeping him company, watching over him all this time. It's a weekday night when he first mentions this while Makoto is sitting at the dining table, a cup of hot chocolate resting snuggly in between his palms. The man puts a small bowl of porridge in front of him before sitting down beside him.

After a moment's pause, he says, "Are you in pain?"

He knows there's no point in lying. Experiences teach him better; lying to his closest confidants, to his friends, usually brings him no good. Being honest is mostly the way he _should_ go about this. So, after a moment of steeling himself, he nods, taking a small sip out of the cup before speaking. "…They're starting to make themselves known… the consequences of my choices."

"…You speak a bit slower than normal, too," Shinjirou comments. He frowns a little, but finds that Shinjirou is right; he _does_ speak slower. Mostly because his tongue is a bit numb, he thinks. Hell, he bit on it a few times today, and he couldn't even tell until after he smelled _blood_. "Don't push yourself too hard, okay? You still have nearly three weeks left to go."

He laughs a little at this. "Your attempt to cheer me up… really sucks, Senpai."

"Oh, _shut up_."

They spend the next few minutes in silence, with Makoto trying his best to eat the stale, tasteless porridge while the older boy just watches him, his hand patting and ruffling his hair lightly. After a few bites, he feels nauseous, so he puts the spoon down and breathes through his mouth a few times. He immediately follows it through with a groan.

"…If you ain't eating, I'm force-feeding ya," The man says, scooting a bit closer, a hand on his shoulder. "I know it sucks, but you've gotta eat more."

"Nauseous," He manages, his voice hoarse. He leans his head into his knuckles. "Tongue's numb."

Instead of chiding him or force-feeding him like he's threatened, Shinjirou just stands up, walks to the cupboard, and returns a moment later. He's about to ask what the man did, only to see a pill and a glass of water being pushed his way. He looks up, a little confused.

"Drug for the nausea," He says. "I ain't letting you leave that seat till you eat it all up."

"…I love you, Senpai, but I really… _really_ want to punch you right now."

The man lifts his fist up. "Wanna try?"

"…No, thank you," He backpedals instantly. He does _not_ want his nose broken, thank you very much. He sighs, looking at the porridge and then at the pill. He decides to take it. "…Are you going to, like… watch me eat?"

"Yes, because I know you ain't above throwing the thing outta the window," He says. In contrast to his harsh words, the man pats his hair lightly, carefully, as if afraid to hurt him. "Take your time. I ain't in a hurry."

In the end, he just nods and does as told.

* * *

Even if it hurts, he makes sure to visit the cherry blossom tree behind the shrine as often as he could.

A part of him wants the tree to bloom, so that he'd be able to keep the forgotten promise. And so that he'd be able to tell her at least _something_. Maybe an _I love you_ that's locked deep within his soul, that's always sitting there at the tip of his tongue, that's waiting to be free. He wants the cherry blossom to adorn that tree, sitting at the very top of the lonely hill, so that he'd have the chance to feel her skin against his, to feel her warmth, to kiss her again.

He's getting weaker, so much so that it's starting to become _obvious_. Sanada would occasionally ask if he's okay, Kirijou would offer some help, Amada would try to cheer him up, Yamagishi would give him something for the fatigue, and Junpei would withdraw his arm from Makoto's shoulders whenever his knees shift and buckle slightly under him. He always tells them that he's fine (he's really not), and they would all believe him.

But Yukari is different. He _knows_ she's always watching from afar. He'd often see her looking at him worriedly as he clings to the railings, trying to keep his body standing up. Sometimes, he'd see her eyes, that's full of uneasiness, as he tries to catch his breath or to even out his erratic heartbeats. She always knows because she's so perceptive, but he doesn't want her to pry more than she already has. He doesn't want her to see him like this.

But, as Fate would have it, she actually catches him lingering behind in class today.

He's feeling especially sick, having eaten some snacks Junpei's brought from Wild Duck Burger – snacks that now taste like rotten fish innards and tar and charcoal. It doesn't take long for him to throw up every last scrap of the meal into the toilet, and even hours afterwards, he's still feeling sick. He wants to barf all the time, and his stomach's churning and twisting. It takes all that he has just to not heave out whatever remains inside his stomach, and she notices this.

Unfortunately for him, she's not willing to let it slide. With a sigh, she says. "Are you okay? Are you sick?"

He wants to lie. Everything's fine, he's going to be okay – that's what he wants to say. But he knows she, unlike the others, would not be satisfied with some half-truths like that. So he closes his eyes, trying to ground himself, and murmurs. "…A little. I'm… going to stay here awhile. I'm nauseous."

"…Okay," She says, reluctantly so. And then, to his surprise, she sits right back down. "Just tell me when you want to leave."

It's not like she remembers anything. Rather, this is just… how she is. He's just a stranger, living in the same dorm. To show care is just… so much like her it hurts. A part of him wants to grab her and hugs her and kisses her, but he reigns those wild thoughts in. He swallows before managing to find his voice again and whispers, "You don't have to stay. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"It's just a few minutes. I can wait. I've got nothing to do today anyway."

 _Don't bind yourself to me. Just go, be free, don't worry. I'll be alright. There's only two weeks left now. I'll be okay._ "…I see. I'm sorry."

 _I'm sorry for letting you see me like this. I'm sorry for worrying you. I'm sorry for leaving_.

He doesn't say any of those words out loud, however much he wants to. She doesn't know (yet), and when she recalls everything, he'll tell her all of those in the papers he's been writing anyway.

"It's okay," She says softly with a shrug, a warm, gentle smile gracing her lips. "I want to stay here. You seem like you need help."

He laughs a little (it sounds like a cough, to be honest), but keeps silent, not trusting himself enough to not spill out everything he wants to say. Instead, he focuses on his ragged breaths, calming down his beating heart, slowing down his wild mind, just enough to think straight. He thinks he can make it to the Shrine today, just… maybe he'll need to take a bit more time than usual. He's alright with that.

With a sigh, he pushes himself up shakily, his arms trembling. He isn't quite surprised when her hand is on his arm, supporting his weight. He smiles at her slightly as he staggers up fully. He takes a pause, one that's too long, one that hurts, before he breathes, "I'm better now. You can… go on ahead. I'll follow."

"We can walk home together, if you'd like."

He doesn't want her to see him like this. Not now, not ever. But he knows she won't back down, so he settles for a compromise. "…I have to go to Naganaki Shrine. We can… go to Iwatodai Station together, I suppose."

Each word hurts. Each breath hurts. His tongue is numb, and he couldn't even taste his own saliva as he gulps for air that's never enough. He hates this. Not in a sense that it hurts, but that he has to let her see him like this, in pain and broken. She shouldn't have to worry. She's living a happy, obliviously blissful life, and he doesn't want to disrupt that.

"…Why Naganaki Shrine?"

He smiles a little at the question, his eyes shifting towards the far horizon. This moment reminds him of memories that feel like a lifetime ago, where they'd hang back together, fingers intertwined. He wants to hold her. Wants to touch her more than this. But he knows he can't.

He shifts his eyes back to her and whispers, "I made a promise," _To you, who's my everything. Always have been, always will be._ "I want to see it through."

She seems… upset. Maybe it's because the way he said it, or how he looks, but in the end, she just sighs and shrugs, hand careful around his biceps. "I'll walk you to Iwatodai Station. After that, you're on your own."

"Okay," He hums, relaxing slightly.

He silently wishes for the cherry blossoms to finally bloom, so that he can say _I love you_ to her, just one more time.

* * *

The petals fly into the air, decorating the gale with beautiful, sorrowful color.

It is three days later when it finally happens. His trips to the Shrine have been tiring and physically taxing, but he's rewarded with the fully-bloomed cherry blossoms, way out of its usual seasons. He smiles as he pants, staggering forward. He finally makes his way towards the bench and drops down onto it, exhaustion seeping into his bones.

Deep breath, and then he closes his eyes.

He feels like he's constantly trampled and whipped and torn apart, his heart feels like it's burning and exploding. His lungs can never get enough air, and he's left breathless even after a few steps. His arms and legs are groaning like he's always been using them, the soreness and the pain accompanied by sparks of lightning that'd leave him numb and cold.

But it's alright. He's _used_ to the pain, and all of those are nothing he couldn't handle.

He could still cook, albeit with needing a bit more time and a bit more help than usual. He could still go to school, even if he has to time himself half and hour early to catch his breath. He could still write, each stroke of the pen needing more care and focus than the last, but he could still relay his thoughts into the paper, to write down his wishes and his questions and his requests for them to live their lives into the diaries as his clock ticks his life away without pause.

He lets himself breathe deeply, the taste of spring and the cherry blossoms filling his usually blood-tinted tongue, the peaceful odor making its way into his sense, relaxing him further. He smiles slightly, his mind recalling the night of the summer festival, with her by his side, gripping his hand, calming him, laughing lightly. So warm, so gentle, like the sun.

He reaches out a hand, and a single petal falls down into his palm. He takes it between his finger and inspects it carefully. It reminds him of her, and now, he can tell her what he wants to. Not everything, but the things that would remind her later on that he still loves her, that he remembers, that he will _always_ remember, no matter what.

"Thank you," He whispers into the wind as he looks towards the skyline, as the sun starts to sink past the horizon. The yellowish-orange light gives Port Island an almost picturesque sight, save for a missing person he'll be bringing here tomorrow to complete it.

_Thank you, whatever gods or Fate there is, that's giving me this one chance._

He breathes again and pushes himself up, his legs shaking. He looks up at the tree, at the dancing leaves, at the fading sunlight.

A bit more than week left, before he has to go.

And he'll make sure he won't regret anything.

* * *

He approaches her days later, on the first day of March, the first day of spring.

Four days until the Promised Day, and his body knows this. It's still hanging on by the thread, with his heart still refusing to stop, as stubborn as he is. Each breath is like dragging molten lava down his lungs, each movement slow and painful, as if his arms and legs are laden with lead. And he knows that Yukari notices this, too. He's been trying to avoid her as best he could, but he couldn't possibly account for his legs suddenly stopping functioning when he tried to go up the stairs, or when the pen just slipped out of his grip during lectures.

His mind is a mess, jumbled and slowed. It feels like trying to squint his eyes through the fog, with no end in sight. His tongue is numb and tingling and, combining that with his burning lungs, are making talking equivalent to climbing Mount Everest. Every small task is like lifting heavy loads – and he thinks he's still here now only because his unyielding heart is refusing to give up. And he won't; not until he could meet them again on the roof. Not until everyone's there.

When he approaches her, he knows she's going to ask things he couldn't possibly answer. So he steels his heart and keeps his despair, his fear, all the things he wishes to say bottled up deep within his own soul, then smiles. The first thing she says when she sees him is, "Are you sure you're really okay? You look like you could fall over any seconds now. You should go to the hospital."

He's been to the hospital times and times before, and the notion of just going back there is making him physically sick. He smiles and shifts his eyes to the horizon again. He speaks, the feeling of sandpaper being scrubbed along his throat making it hard to even put volume behind it. "There's… something I want you to see."

"…What thing?"

He wants to keep it a surprise. He isn't sure if she's going to play along or not, but he has to try. If she doesn't, well… telling her what he wants her to see's still an option. "Can you… walk with me today?"

She looks like she wants to say something, to say _a lot_ of things. But she seems torn, unsure. In the end, much to his relief, she decides to play along with his little game and says, "Sure, I guess."

He tries his best to keep his steps as steady as he could, and his breathing controlled, as he leads her to Naganaki Shrine in silence. He couldn't speak much – he has to save up his energy for the walk, after all. Thankfully, she's not saying anything to him, possibly finding it awkward to even strike up a conversation with a weird introvert like him, and he's fine with that (he's really not).

When they finally reach the cherry blossoms, he couldn't help but smile at her awestruck expression. She then starts walking around, inspecting the place, light of happiness dancing in her soft brown eyes, her smile gentle and warm.

"It's beautiful," She says.

"It is," He hum, eyes shifting up, hand gathering a single petal in between his fingers. He silently thanks the gods again before asking her quietly. "Do you like it?"

Her smile is bright as she says, "Yeah! I don't even know there's a hill here! I should come here during the summer festival this year."

"It'd be… quite a sight, I'm sure," He says, remembering that night where they sat there together, their fingers interlaced. She was so, _so_ warm. It was one of the moments he wishes had never ended. He then staggers over to the bench and sits down, his legs too tired to keep him up for much longer. He leans back against the stone that was warmer the last time he was here, and murmurs. "This is all… I wanted to show you… you can leave… whenever you want."

"I'm just going to admire this a bit longer, I think. What about you?"

"I'm going to rest awhile," He says. Walking up the stairs is especially tiresome today. He wonders if it's because he couldn't eat anything at all and throw up all of his gastric content this morning. He guesses that must've been the case. But, oddly enough, he finds himself quite relaxed like this. "I'll be back… after sunset, maybe."

"Can I watch it with you?"

He's surprised, but… he doesn't mind it. "Of course."

He keeps his eyes closed, letting his body half-pants, trying to gather as much oxygen into his lungs as he humanly could. He tries to relax a bit more, and finds himself focusing on the warmth radiating from her as she sits there beside him.

He wants to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her how much she means to him. He wants to feel her hands on his skin, her lips against his own, her warm breath tickling his hair, like all those nights ago. But those are just that; wishes, hopeful but improbable. But he thinks… he might be able to tell her the three words, just to make sure she knows. He isn't even sure if he'll be capable of talking in the next few days or not, so he guesses today is his best bet.

Again, she starts, her voice unsure. "Hey. Are you okay?"

He smiles slightly, eyes still closed. His chest hurts at every breath, his tongue's burning on every word, but he _wants_ to talk to her, just a minute, just a second longer. "No."

It takes her a moment, and then her reaction is immediate. His word is not what sets her off, no, but it's a confirmation to her suspicion, he thinks. She quickly grabs his shoulder (it hurts), shaking him. " _What!?_ If you're not alright, then you should go see a doctor! I'll—"

He cuts her off by placing his hand over her own. "It's alright… This, too, will pass."

_I won't be suffering for long. You don't have to worry about me._

"Yuuki-kun, excuse me, but you look like absolute _shit_ right now. Come one, I'll take you to—"

" _Please_ ," He says. He knows she won't back down, but this is the one thing he can't let her do. The doctors won't be able to help, and they'll only make keeping his promise harder. "It'll pass, eventually… I think… I can hold out until then."

 _Four more days. I can make it_.

She seems to give up and bites at her lip. He knows she want to push him more, but she also knows he won't let her. She might've forgotten him, but her heart doesn't, it seems. "Why're you so stubborn?"

"Am I?" He laughs a little at that. He's gotten that a lot, especially from her and a certain senior with a beanie and a scowl.

When he glances sideways to look at her again, she's looking so worried, so uncertain. Questions at the tip of her tongue, worry outlining her brows, subtle _fear_ in her expression. He couldn't help but feel like he wants to ease her pain, even a little. She deserves to be happy. She _should_ be happy, yet here she is, tying herself to him without her own knowledge, forcing him to fall in love all over again.

Before he could think on it, his hand – crooked, scarred, unfeeling – is already on her cheek, caressing it, feeling it through the glove.

She jumps a little, but doesn't pull away, so he just smiles at her, thumb drawing little circles under her eye, fingers touching her jaw, feeling her shivers just minutely under his palm. He wants this moment to stay like this forever, frozen in translucent snow globe, unchanging, so kind and so gentle. He wants to keep feeling her warm skin, wants to hold her tighter than this, wants to do more than just cupping her cheek in his deformed hand. But… he couldn't. He can't take advantage of her, not like this.

He settles with freezing this feeling, this moment, into his memories before he pulls away and murmurs slowly. "You're beautiful," _Always have been._

"Uh… Thanks," She stammers, her face slightly red, flushing like the first time they kissed.

…He has to leave, before he does something more. Something that _she_ will regret. So he forces himself to stand up on his weakened, numb legs, and says, each word more painful than the last. "I'm sorry… About that. Just… I've always... wanted to do it, you see."

"…Why?"

This time, he says what he's always wanted to; the feeling he's buried deep within his heart. The feeling he's always had just for her alone.

"Because… I love you."

* * *

He can't make it to school by himself anymore.

Bone deep exhaustion is rendering him immobile, each draw of breath and each twitch of muscles so painful and incredibly tiresome. He wants nothing more than to sleep the day away, but he knows he can't do that. He has to keep writing — he's nearly there, the diaries are almost finished — and he has to keep acting like everything is alright, that he is okay, so that they wouldn't worry.

Shinjirou helps him tremendously during this last stretch; a silent arm around him to keep him warm and keep him standing. A pat to the head that says _I'm here for you_ , a sad smile that is as gentle as his heart. He's grateful that the man remembers him and their bond, and pained that he has to see him like this, barely breathing, barely living, undeniably dying, a foot already past the gateway to hell.

Shinjirou takes his time walking him to school in his arm in the early mornings, and helps him back after class, waiting for him at the front of the classroom door, not giving two fucks about what anyone's saying about him. Always so kind, so understanding. He has been blessed with a company of this man, he really has; and he's glad he's managed to save his life from the jaws of death. Without him, he thinks he mightn't have made it to the Promised Day.

After Yukari helps him back to his room, seeing him like that, her eyes confused and afraid, he staggers to his bed and drops down, panting, his mind a jumbled mess. He could barely _think_ at all, and talking to her is nearly an impossible task; each word is like bellowing at the top of his lungs, yet the sound that manages to come out is naught but a whisper. He closes his eyes, not bothering to change out of his clothing, an arm over his face, unable to shift from his position. But he still needs to cook for them tomorrow – and he _will_ , no matter what.

There's a knock on his door, and Shinjirou wastes no time opening it, not even waiting for his consent. The older man drags the chair to the bedside and sits down, placing something on the floor. He then says, quietly, "You should skip school tomorrow."

"No," He denies, trying to push himself up. Shinjirou wordlessly pulls him into a sitting position, a hand on his shoulder as he breathes shallowly. After a moment, he continues. "I can do it… Only two more days… I _want_ to."

"You can't even _breathe_ right," The older man mutters, eyes glancing towards something on the floor. He follows, and sees a bowl of porridge and a glass of water there. "…But… I know. If I were you, I'd have wanted to spend the time with them, too."

"…Thank you," He says, blinking dazedly.

After another few minutes, Shinjirou puts the glass into his shaking hands while he stirs the porridge with care. Makoto doesn't want him to waste so much time with a dead man walking like him, but the older boy insists, and he _likes_ (needs) the company, so he just relents and lets the older man helps him. He even goes as far as to feed him in these past few days, since keeping the spoon steady is something he could only accomplishes _half_ of the time, now.

He obediently eats a half spoon of warm, tasteless meal as Shinjirou feeds him slowly, his expression so fond and so pained. After a few bites, he pauses for breath, fingers digging deep into the damp sheets, cold and numb. He pulls his hands to his chest and grips them, trying to warm them up a little. Three more breaths, and he murmurs. "…I wonder… would they… forgive me?"

"They will," The other says calmly, resolutely. "They will, Makoto, trust me. How can they be angry at someone who choose _death_ for their lives?"

"But… I've never… told them," He whispers. "I've known for… a while, before Nyx… I could've told them sooner… but I chose not to…"

"How could anyone choose the right thing when they're facing their own deaths?" Shinjirou counters, pushing a spoon to his lips again. "I don't think I even will, if I was in your shoes. They might be a bit salty for a while, sure. But I know they won't resent you. _I_ won't."

"…I see," He says quietly, his vision starting to swim. He sways a little, and the man promptly steadies him with a firm hand on his arm. He breathes again. "…Senpai, I…"

"Hmm?"

"I wouldn't… have made it, without you," He smiles at the older man, his breathing finally calming down to the point where speaking isn't as painful. "So… thank you, for… everything."

Shinjirou chuckles at that, mirthless as it may, as he fondly pats his head, like he always does. "It's not a problem, kid. You've helped me before. This is the least I could do for you."

"I wish… they remember," He says, clutching the silver key he intends to give Yukari tomorrow through his shirt, its firm, cold steel against his palm. "…I want to see them… there… just one more time."

"They will, kid. They will."

* * *

After their last dinner together, he finds himself before Yukari's door.

Talking with Shinjirou before coming up here gives him enough courage to give her the key himself. He has already told the older man about the diaries, so he thinks those written words should reach them all not too long after his death. But for Yukari, there's the box he's given her, and the key he's torn between handing it to her hand directly or putting it inside the diary. But Shinjirou insisted he should do it like this, so… he guesses he will.

After he knocks on the door, it takes her but a few seconds to open it, and she looks dumbfounded when she sees him standing there. "…Yuuki-kun?"

"…Hey," He greets her, his voice rough and cracked at the end. He's trying his damn best to stand, and he's pleasantly surprised at how much strength he has left in him still.

"Uh… can I help you?"

He's about to just hand her the key and wait for her tomorrow on that roof, but her expression and her eyes and her _everything_ are bringing the feeling of nostalgia back to him. He wants to feel her again, just one last time, under his fingertips. He wants to hold her, to kiss her – and he remembers Shinjirou saying that he should follow what his heart has to say, for once. It's his last chance, after all.

So, deciding to follow his heart, and not his head, he looks away briefly before nodding. "It's… going to sound strange, but… I want to ask a favor… if that's alright with you."

She shrugs. "Sure, I guess… what is it?"

Sometimes, he thinks her hidden instinct is a bit too sharp. It looks like her subconscious _knows_ who he is, and is making an effort to reconnect again. He smiles. "…Don't slap me, okay?"

Whatever words she's going to say die in her throat when he reaches his now gloveless hand to her cheek, caressing her skin under his thumb, feeling the minute shivers under the pad of his fingers. She looks a bit confused and unsure as she asks. "So, um… You said… you love me?"

And there it is, the words he's said to her a few days ago, under the cherry blossom tree, under the falling petal and the setting sun. He smiles a little more as he thinks of what he should say. But then he glances up to see the hairpin, and slowly, carefully, he reaches his hand towards it, brushing her hair away and tugging them behind her ear, tracing the outline of the pin that means _immortality_ – the opposite end of what he is, what all humans are.

She then gasps, realization dawning on her. "It was _you_. You bought me this pin. You're the one who put it there in the first place. It was _you_."

Just a touch, and she recalls it. A part of him is horrified that she does, but another, treacherous part of him is _glad_ that she still knows him. So he smiles, nodding in confirmation. "Yes. It was me."

"Why didn't you say anything?" She inquires, her eyes so lost, so confused.

"You didn't remember. I don't see a reason… to remind you of such things," He says truthfully, a finger under her chin, lifting her face up. He misses this. He misses _everything_ , and he hopes… he hopes that she'd still remember her feelings, just a little.

She's saying something, but he couldn't quite hear it, too focused on her lips. A part of him feels wrong for even thinking of doing this, but his heart says to trust it, says that he should do it – because if he doesn't now, he won't get another chance again.

Despite his better judgement, he leans down to kiss her.

She seems surprised, at first, her mouth clamping shut. After a moment, she parts her lips slightly, her hands grabbing and pulling at his coat as he lifts her face up, deepening the kiss, eyes closed, savoring every little taste, every little feeling, and committing them to memories. And she tastes just the same; like lily and sunlight and spring, like a brand-new day waiting to arrive, like hope dancing at the horizon, waiting to be reached, waiting to be grasped.

He circles his arm around her waist, another resting on her neck, touching her pulse, feeling her _alive_ under his hand. She hums into his lips, her tongue dancing in an all too familiar manner. He could feel her legs shaking under her, and he puts a little more effort to hold her to him despite the pain building up in his limbs, despite his lungs' screams for air.

And when he pulls away, she's not letting him go. So he smiles a little before murmuring against her lips softly, carefully, "…Thank you, for… not punching me… _Yukari_."

Before long, his face is in her hands and she's looking into his eyes, searching for something he couldn't possibly provide her. "…Who are you? Who are you… _to me?_ "

He isn't brave enough to claim to know what she thinks – _thought_ – of him, but he knows what _he_ thinks of her, so he settles that as his answer as he puts his hands over hers, and lowers his forehead to her own, touching them, allowing himself to feel her warm breath on his lips. "I don't know. But… you are – always have been, always will be – my _everything."_

He could see thousands of emotions raging inside her heart, so he just presses his lips on her forehead, like she used to do for him. He could see that she's distressed. Maybe because she doesn't remember, while he does. But that's alright. He doesn't mind it.

"It's alright, even if you don't remember… I'll always be there, right beside you… okay?"

She grabs his coat again, not letting him go. "…Why? How can I become so important to you when I can't even remember _anything?_ "

"Does it matter?" He asks, truthfully so. He knows even from before they're in each other's arms, even before she even talked to him the first time, that not knowing someone doesn't mean you _can't_ love them. She's shown him that herself, and now… "Love… doesn't need to happen both ways, does it? All I know… is that you don't need to be loved in return just to love others… I don't mind if the feelings aren't mutual, you know. You… mean more to me than anything. You're _my_ world, my guiding light, my sun. Even if I'm no more than a stranger to you… you'll always be everything to me."

"I… I don't understand you, Yuuki-kun. I don't understand. It feels wrong. It shouldn't—"

He stops her with a finger to her lips. _They're so soft_ , he notes. " _Shh_. You don't need to understand now… But I promise you, that… in the end, you _will_."

"I…" She tries to speak, but she seems lost. He takes the momentary pause to continue, even if he's starting to feel lightheaded and breathless.

"You gave me this life. I owe you everything. So… thank you."

He pulls away, and is about to turn back to pull the key out of his shirt, but she stops him, her fingers hooking into his sleeve. He turns around to see fear painted clearly in her eyes – she thinks he's going to leave, isn't she?

"Please," She begins, she _begs_. "Please, _please_ , don't go away. I don' want you to go away. I don't want to lose you."

He pulls her fingers away and pulls it into his hands, kissing the fingertips lightly. He then points at her chest and smiles. "Even if I'm not here… as long as you remember me, I'll always be there for you."

"No, no, _no_ , don't say that. Don't say that like you're going away. Don't say that like you're—" She cuts herself short with a gasp and a sob, her shoulders trembling, hands clinging to him tightly. He could do nothing to stay with her – but maybe, just for tonight, he might be able to.

He huffs a little before pulling her head to his shoulder, hugging her, feeling her breath through his coat, feeling her body shivering in his arms. He whispers into her ear, rocking her slightly, like she used to do for him. "It's alright, everything's okay… I'm still here, I'm not going anywhere… I'll stay with you… for as long as you want me to… okay?"

He ends up being dragged into her room, sitting on the bed. They stay in complete silence for a while, and he could see her thinking, contemplating, _confused_. He knows exactly what conclusion she's reached, and he couldn't help but smile sadly; her subconscious _knows_ he's going to die, soon. He couldn't quite lie to her, couldn't quite say that he'll stay forever. But, right now, he's still alive, he's still _here_ ; the least he could do is to help her relax, just a little, just for today.

"Yukari," He calls her name softly, and when she looks at him, he pulls her hand to his chest, letting her feel his beating heart, giving her the prove that he's still alive, right here, right now. He might not be alive tomorrow, but tonight, he's here. It's the best he can do. "I'm right here."

She whimpers a little before murmuring, "Are you… are you dyin—"

He stops her with a finger to her lips. If she asks that, he'll be compelled to say _yes_ , and she'd break down, she'd cry, she'd be sad. He doesn't want that. At least, for tonight, he wants to make her just a little happier. So he reassures her, deflecting the question to the abyss. "No more questions tonight. I'm here… I'm _still_ here. And I'll be here… for you. With you. _Always_."

To his surprise, she kisses him.

It's desperate, frantic, unsure. He doesn't want to take advantage of her again like this, but it's getting harder to wriggle his way out of her alluring scent or her soft, warm touch. He sighs slightly, recuperating the kiss, a hand on her hips. When he tries to pull back, she hooks both her arms around his neck, pulling him in even closer.

His lungs are screaming and begging for air, but he couldn't give two shits to it right now, too delighted and too engrossed in the feelings of her lips against his own. He puts a hand on her cheek, then down to her jawline, feeling the minute shudder under his palm. This time, she pulls back, panting, her face slightly flushed. He only smiles, and is slightly surprised when she hugs him tightly, her ear against his chest.

He pats her head softly, carding his fingers through her soft locks, another embracing her loosely. He doesn't want to leave, he doesn't want to let go, but he will have to. But, for now, he knows he _can_ at least calm her down, and he definitely will.

"…Can you stay here? Just… for tonight?"

"Mhm," He hums. He will, until she's fallen asleep, until she's no longer terrified. But after that… he has to get the last rest, or he won't make it to tomorrow. He shoves the thoughts away and kisses the top of her head, inhaling the scent of roses emanating from her hair. "I can… and I will."

"Okay," She mumbles, still holding onto him tightly.

After a moment, he sits up fully on the bed, his back against the headboard. He gently pulls her towards him and lets her hold onto his torso, her head just under his chin, his arm around her shoulders. She doesn't resist, humming slightly, as if satisfied. He buries his nose into her soft, brown locks, and breathes slowly, keeping the oxygen flowing, keeping himself alive.

"…Yuuki-kun?" She begins, her voice low, still unsure. He only hums in response, a bit winded. She takes it as a confirmation to continue, he thinks. "I'm… not sure how to say this, but… having you here, it feels like… home. Why is that?"

"I don't know," _I do_ , He inwardly says, but she doesn't need to know that. If the gods and Fate are willing, then maybe… she will, by tomorrow. "But… I can say… that the feeling's mutual."

"I see," She murmurs, snuggling just a little closer to him.

He thinks she's trying to say something more, but doesn't, in the end. So he just leaves her be, and murmurs sweet nothings into her ear until she falls asleep in his arms.

* * *

He puts the key and the note on the table, tugs her under the covers, and leaves just a few hours before sunrise.

He could barely feel anything, could barely _think_ , but his stubborn heart refuses to die. He's glad that it does, somehow, against all odds. He slowly staggers back to his room, and once there, he knows that he'll not wake up again if he falls asleep. He grabs the cold cup of coffee he's left on the table and drinks it in one go, to keep himself going just a few hours longer, and sits down on the chair, panting.

It takes him a while to get up again, and when he does, he gets himself changed into his school uniform, for the final time. He sits back down on the chair, back hunched, his hands and feet cold and numb. He could barely feel _anything_ anywhere, so he settles to look out the window, his vision hazy as if looking through a curtain of fog. He breathes in and out slowly, trying to keep himself grounded. It's the last day; he'll _not_ fail it, no matter what.

Time flies by in a blur, and he's jolted out of his half-stupor by a knock on his door. He staggers up and opens it, and is surprised to see not just Shinjirou, but also Aigis there, the latter smiling at him sadly, her eyes glistening with tears that shouldn't have been there.

"…Makoto-san, I'm sorry. I… remember, now," She says slowly. He glances up at Shinjirou, who's saying nothing, eyes still as kind as he remembers. He turns back to Aigis again. "That day, we fought against the impossible, and you saved us, _all_ of us. I'm sorry it took me so long to remember you… remember _us_."

He smiles. He wants to say something, anything, but he couldn't find his voice anymore, his tongue numb and unfeeling, his throat dry. Aigis looks alarmed, but he just shakes his head before stepping forward.

His legs give out suddenly, and she catches him, her strong, metallic arms around his torso. She then says, panicked, _terrified_. "Makoto-san!"

"Aigis," Shinjirou says, stopping her. He closes his eyes, focusing himself on his breathing, and opens them again when he feels the older boy's hand on his shoulder. When he nods, the man sighs. "Alright. Aigis, I don't know how to put this, but…"

"…He's dying," She finishes, surprising both of them. She then shifts him out of her embrace, and put him right between the two of them, their hands around his torso, lifting him up, keeping him standing. Her eyes are scanning him, and she must've picked up his fading vitals, his pale face, his rapid breathing. He smiles slightly, and she looks like she wants to cry. "…Why?"

"He told me that… stopping Nyx requires a power that's its equal. So, he has no choice but to…" The man trails off, looking away, a hand on his beanie, pulling it down. "…I don't want you to die, Makoto."

He groans, summoning his lost strength from the bowels of his soul and murmurs silently. _I know._

Aigis puts a hand over his chest, over his heart, as it beats his life away. "Makoto-san, I'm so sorry."

He shakes his head again before mouthing the words he couldn't say, hoping that she would catch his meaning. _Don't be. I've had a good life, thanks to you._

She smiles back, tears that he's seen a month ago returning to her bright blue eyes.

"…Let's go to the roof, time's wasting," Shinjirou says, a sad, sad smile on his lips. "I'll make sure they all see you there, kid. You want to keep this promise, right?"

He nods.

One last time. He will see it through.

* * *

They're sitting on the stone bench, waiting for the others to arrive.

The wind is warm and welcoming, the dancing petals scattering across the bright blue sky are just so beautiful. The sunlight, too, is warm; not too bright, not too scorching. The view from the rooftop is always the best – the ocean is reflecting the light away from its surface, the sound of the wind whistling through the building is just right, and he thinks, absently, that it's a beautiful day to die.

He's leaning against Shinjirou as the man pulls him to his shoulder, letting him rest his head on it, letting him feel the welcoming warmth, letting him feel the slight rise and fall of the other's shoulder as he breathes. Aigis is squeezing his knee reassuringly, as if to say that they'll be here. She doesn't need to, though; he believes they will. He _knows_ they will.

"I promise," Shinjirou suddenly says. He sees Aigis looking at the man, curious. He could barely move anymore, so he just hums, as loud as he could, to say that _I heard you_. When he does, the older boy says quietly, his voice trembling. "That I won't cry. You wouldn't have wanted that, right? So… I won't cry. At least, not in front of the others, not in front of you. So don't worry, alright?"

He hums, nodding slightly. He then exhales.

"…I wish we could've seen this spring together," Aigis says. He closes his eyes, and hums again. He agrees; he wants to see the world with all of them, but he knows that he can't. Still, the knowledge of the world having a chance to live on and prosper doesn't fill him with regret, but rather, with _joy_. He feels her hand squeezing his knee just a little more. "I want to protect you, but..."

 _You already have_ , he thinks, but couldn't quite say it. He wants to reassure them both, that he's alright like this, that it's okay, that everything will be just fine. But he couldn't, not anymore.

And then, the door's slammed open.

The moment stretches into an eternity as he looks at the girl he loves standing there, recognition in her eyes, tears collecting at her lashes. When she runs towards him, he musters the energy he has left and smiles, freer than ever before.

The warmth of her arms is soothing, slowly lulling him into his final slumber. She's saying something into his shoulder, frantic. He feels the arm around his shoulders and on his knee backing away. He thinks she might be apologizing for something, but he doesn't know; he couldn't hear anything. So he exhales into what he thinks is the crook of her neck, and uses all of his failing strength to hug her back, just one more time.

The hands are back down to his lap when he couldn't move them anymore, too exhausted, too tired. And then, she pulls back a little. He could barely see her features at all, but he could still feel her warm hands on him. He sees her lips move as she asks him softly, through murky water of his slipping consciousness. It takes him a moment to interpret the movement of her lips; _Are you tired?_

He nods.

He feels her sit down beside him, and pulls him down onto her lap, his head against her thighs, eyes facing the bright blue sky above. It's so warm, so peaceful, that he nearly forgets to keep his eyes open just a little longer, against the sleepiness that's clawing at the insides of his eyelids, compelling him to close them. Each blink takes longer than the last, and each time, he could feel the soft hum getting louder and see the scattering starlight of the world above clearer as they beckons him closer still.

He rests both his hands on his chest as he forces himself to breathe just a while longer. He wills himself to blink one more time, and manages to see her smile through the white fog. She's saying something more, but the world has already been silenced, and darkness is creeping into the edges of his visions.

He wants to hear her voice, but hands of Death are pulling him away. He doesn't mind dying like this, with the person he cherished most. He just wish he'd be able to do more than just lying here, unable to move. And he hopes… that they'll meet again, someday. Perhaps in her dreams. Or in another lifetime.

He lets his eyes slip shut, for the final time.

Before he drifts off into his final rest, he feels her hand on his, so warm, so kind. With the last of his strength, he manages out a few words – words he hopes she'd hear them.

" _I love you._ "

_Always have, always will._

And then, he finds himself being carried away by the warm spring wind, into a place far beyond the reach of light, into a place far beyond the scope of dark.

* * *

He opens his eyes to see—

"…Mom?"

She smiles, and before he knows it, he's a little kid again, running at full speed into her waiting arms.

_Did I make you proud? Did I live right? Did I do okay?_

"I'm proud of you. _We_ are proud of you, Makoto. Always have been."

His laughter is light, and his smile is free.

_I'm home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... yeah? I'm sorry (not really).
> 
> Mwehehe hope I tugged some heartstrings with this one!
> 
> The next is, *drumrolls* XXII: The Fool! :D That chapter alone is the Answer content, final chapter is more or less an epilogue? I guess? Yeah, that.
> 
> See you next time, folks!


	26. XXII: Foolish Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Makoto," She whispers into the empty room, to the gods above and demons below, to the ghosts that walk between the worlds. "Makoto, please, I'm here, now. Please, don't leave me behind."
> 
> 'You promised me you won't leave me alone. You promised me you'll live.'
> 
> "You promised. Please, don't leave me like this."
> 
> She repeats those words like a mantra until she falls asleep on the bed, surrounded by nothing but the deafening silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Answer is here. Depressions are here too.
> 
> Don't let me keep you!

**_XXII: Foolish Dreams_ **

_The hardest part of losing someone isn't having to say goodbye, but rather learning to live without them. Always trying to fill the void, the emptiness that's left inside your heart where they go._

_The reality of it is that you will grieve forever. You'll not get over the loss of a loved one; you'll just learn to live with it. You will heal and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you've suffered. You will be whole again, but you'll never be the same. Nor should you be the same._

_Nor should you want to._

* * *

The air is stale, the world is silent.

Yukari hates the hospital. Even after accompanying him here multiple times, she still couldn't quite get used to the oppressive atmosphere and the shadows of deaths that hug and grab some people, while letting others go. When he was visiting here, she always made a point of saying how much she wanted him to stop coming back to this place, to get better, to finally be free.

And yet, here he is… here they are.

The beeping sound of the life support is nothing but background noise. There's not a movement in the room, nor outside; the birds don't sing, the leaves don't dance, as if to mourn for this gentle soul, who's _dying_. A gentle soul, who deserves _so much better_ than this short, miserable life, where his happiness always ends just as soon as it happens.

She wants it to be nothing more than a nightmare; she wants to close her eyes and wake up into his warm arms and his scarred chest, kissing his skin as she stirs in the morning, giggling at him as he makes an off-hand comment about the smell of the coffee, holding his hand as they get up. She wants to wake up from this unending horror into the morning where everything's okay, where everyone's free, where they all live happily ever after, like all the romantic movies she's always seen.

But here, she's anchored to the cruel reality that he's still sleeping, unmoving, _dying_. Mitsuru had him on life support as soon as they – as _she_ notices that he's not waking up like he should after he's fallen asleep on the roof, as if to buy time that never waits, as if to prolong the inevitable that she doesn't (couldn't) accept. The last thing he did was smiling at her as she held him in her arms, her memories back in full, and what had she been doing, all those days, all those weeks ago?

 _Nothing_ , a voice in her head hisses like a serpent, biting into her soul and forcing her to face her own ignorance. _You did nothing while he's dying and in pain. You remembered **nothing** while he remembered **everything** about you._

She couldn't even _cry_.

"Kid," The voice pulls her out of her thoughts. She doesn't look up, her eyes still focusing on his hand – scarred beyond healing, blackened and crooked, and _cold_. He used to be warm. He _should_ be warm. He should be awake and smiling at her, not sleeping his life away like this. When she doesn't respond, the voice sighs, and she feels someone shuffling to stand beside her. "You should get some rest."

"No," She responds immediately, her voice raw from crying and begging the gods to save him. She grips Makoto's hand harder, wishing, hoping, that he would wake up with a yelp and smile at her, forgiving her roughness. She could feel the pieces of her heart scattering across the floor, but she just doesn't care anymore. "I don't want to. I _can't_. Not until he wakes up. What if—"

"—I'll keep watch," The man says quietly, his voice subdued, no longer bashful and rough like it used to be. He's softer, a bit more considerate. She sees his large, rough hand covering her own, squeezing her hands gently. "I promise. He wouldn't have wanted this for you."

"How could—" She begins, but stops midway. _How could you possibly know what he would've wanted for me_ , is what she wants to say. But she knows that Aragaki _knows_. He's the only one who knows. He's _always_ known, and he's been staying by Makoto's side, all this time, while she just pranced around like a _bitch_ that she is, oblivious to his pain, unable to recall the bond they've made, all the love he's given her, all the kindness he's shown her.

He became a stranger simply because _she_ couldn't _remember_.

She inhales shakily, trying to find her voice. When she does, it's rough, it's broken, it's barely above a whisper as she says. "…I don't want to. I don't… I can't… I just can't leave him be. I _have_ to stay here. I _must_ stay here."

"Kid," Aragaki says again, this time drawing her eyes up. He's not scowling. He's just looking at her with a sad smile that doesn't belong there. He pats her head, and he's so _warm_ , a stark contrast to the cold fingers in between her palms. "I'll let you know if anything changes. Go eat. Sleep. Come back when you're not shaking on your legs, okay?"

 _I don't want to leave_ , her stubborn heart says. He's here, he's _dying_ , and she doesn't want to let go. If she does, if he—if he goes away when she's not here, she won't be able to live with herself. She _won't_ let go, she can't afford to, not like this. He deserves more than this. And she wasn't there when he needed her most – what kind of _girlfriend_ is she? To leave him behind, alone, when he's _dying?_

But she knows that Aragaki is right… If – _when_ he wakes up to her like this, he's not going to be happy. He's going to reprimand her for not taking better care of herself, so she sighs and nods, defeated. She stands up, her legs shaking and unsure, before she plants a kiss to his forehead (cold, he's so cold), and pats his hair lightly with her hand. "…I'll be back in a bit, okay? Wait for me."

When she exits the room, she sees Fuuka and Mitsuru there, their smiles forced, unsure. She just regards them with a small bow before heading towards the exit.

"Yukari," Mitsuru says as she and Fuuka accompanies her. How long have they been waiting for her out here, she wonders? "Let's head back to the dorm first, and then you catch some sleep, alright? I'll get you back here first thing the next morning."

 _I can't wait that long,_ she thinks, but she knows Aragaki must've _ordered_ Mitsuru so. She isn't going to get away with it, so she sighs and nods. "Okay. Thanks, Senpai."

She wants to go back there so bad, but a small part of her thinks Makoto's going to scold her if she doesn't take better care of herself. With a dejected sigh, she decides to stop thinking about it, at least after until she gets some sleep.

* * *

His room looks just the same.

After a tasteless meal and a cold shower, she finds herself here yet again. The curtains are drawn, the bedsheets neatly tugged into the corners of the mattress, his MP3 lies forgotten on the desk. She thinks no one has been in here ever since he's _hospitalized_ (she keeps telling herself that, but her rebellious heart _knows_ it's not just that anymore), and Aragaki's given her another copy of the key to his room, with him holding on to one set of his own.

She stumbles around, fingers tracing the cold table. Even his pens and papers are still there, a written passage left unfinished, a curry bun Junpei bought him left untouched. There's an empty cup of coffee on the table, the remaining contents long since dried up. But it doesn't look old; a couple of days, at most. He most likely must've drunk it before going to the roof on that day.

She then touches the bed, cold and soft. She could still remember them cuddling each other here, the blanket around their forms, their hands joint together. He's always so gentle, so warm, so kind. And she remembers him smelling like coffee and fallen snow; he's always smelt like that, even before he began cooking, she thinks. She's never told him this, and now she won't get the—

She stops herself by curling up on his cold bed, inhaling whatever lingering scent there is, wrapping herself up in the sheets that used to be warmer. She could still _feel_ him wrapping his arms around her, could still feel his breath tickling her hair, could still feel his lips moving beside her ear as he whispers sweet little nothings, lulling her to sleep, _always_.

Whimpers escape her throat as she curls up into a tiny little ball, as if to trap whatever she could feel within her forever. She doesn't want to forget, she won't, she _can't_. So, she closes her eyes, focusing herself on feeling his arms around her again. She wishes for him to wake up — he _has_ to. He beat Nyx, he won them this freedom, so he has to live, too.

Silently, she curses herself for ever _forgetting_ him. How could she, when he remembers _all_ the little details for all this time? Aragaki never forgets, then why did she? How could she?

She curls up just a little more, cocooning herself under his memories—

 _No_ , she chides herself with a frown. _Don't say that like he's already dead. He's alive. Don't give up on him yet, Yukari. He's never given up on you, so don't you freaking **dare**._

"Makoto," She whispers into the empty room, to the gods above and demons below, to the ghosts that walk between the worlds. "Makoto, _please_ , I'm here, now. Please, don't leave me behind."

_You promised me you won't leave me alone. You promised me you'll live._

"You promised. Please, don't leave me like this."

She repeats those words like a mantra until she falls asleep on the bed, surrounded by nothing but the deafening silence.

* * *

"His pupils are already _unresponsive_ , Kirijou-san. He's already—"

"—I know."

She doesn't want to hear any of it, but she has to. It's already been a week after the Graduation, and here they all are, in the hospital. Mitsuru is having a conversation with the doctor. She doesn't want to hear it. She wants to keep believing that he'll eventually wake up, that this is just a stupid nightmare created by Nyx to throw them off, just a dream that she'll inevitably wake up from.

But this is not a dream. This is _real_. The feelings of her nails digging into her own flesh and drawing out blood is real. The feeling of her shoulders shaking as tears threaten to rip themselves out from her eyes is real. Aragaki's hand on her head and Fuuka's hand on hers and Junpei's shoulder pats are all _real_ and this is not a _nightmare_ but a reality.

A cruel, harsh reality that she wants to run away from.

Her eyes then refocus on Mitsuru as she kneels before her, clasping one of her hands in her own, her soft (they're usually so _sharp_ ) red-tinted brown eyes are looking straight at her. After a moment, her senior says, pensive, as if afraid to upset her. "Yukari, I… I know it's hard, and I don't want to do this, but…"

"But what?" She bites out, her own voice foreign to her ears. It's sharp and cold and _resentful_. She isn't even sure why. But she couldn't even _think_ as her mouth moves on its own. "But what, Senpai? Are you asking me to pull the damn plug? Are you asking me to _give up?_ "

"Yukari…"

"I _can't!_ " She's half screaming, the tears that's been collecting in her eyes for the past week finally spilling out, relentless. She curls into herself, nails deep into her own arms. "I _forgot_ him! I can't give up on him now or… I—I _can't_ , not like this, not when he spent the past month _alone_ while I just prance around like a goddamn _bitch_ without even recalling what _we_ are!"

"Takeba," She hears Aragaki's stern voice from her side as she curls up further. When she doesn't say anything, the man continues. "Takeba, listen. He didn't mind. He knew it'd happen, and he knew you wouldn't have wanted to forget. Don't—"

" _You_ could say that because you never forget!" She snaps. "I'm _supposed_ to be his girlfriend! So _why!?_ Why did I not remember a _damn_ thing when he's suffering and in pain!? I _should've_ been there!"

She doesn't want to let go. If she let him go now, it'd mean that she's accepting the fact that it's her own weakness that caused her to forget all about him, even after she's claimed that she loves him. How could she, when she couldn't even recall the bonds they've shared?

She cries and cries and _cries_ until all the tears are dried up and she's left with shaking shoulders and broken sobs that refuse to stop. She doesn't want to give up now, but her head knows, better than anyone, better than _everyone_ , that he's already—…

He's _gone_ , since that day on the roof. He's long since _gone_.

"I'm so sorry, Makoto," She whispers into the stale air, into the weight of the world that's now on her shoulders. She feels hard, metallic arms — _Aigis'_ — around her body, and the grip on her hands is a little tighter. She closes her eyes and murmurs again, as if begging him to hear her. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Yukari," Mitsuru says again, softly. She doesn't look up, but gives her a short hum. "…I know it's hard, but… I think you should be there, when we…"

"…Okay," She nods numbly. Strong hand helps her stand up — _Aragaki's_ , she thinks — and she murmurs a quiet _thank you_ before the SEES make their way to his room.

She refuses to look anywhere but at the floor, her hands still shaking. The sound of the ventilator is so _loud_ , so prominent, like this. She takes in a few deep breaths before looking up, and taking in the sight of him, with a tube down his throat and monitors attached to his body. She whimpers a little, hands fisting her own skirt.

She doesn't want to see the… _last_ (god, the word doesn't belong here) of him like this. She doesn't want to remember him with apparatuses across his body like this. She doesn't want him to be in _pain_ even after he's gone. This is not how he's supposed to look like.

"…Whenever you're ready, Takeba," Aragaki murmurs, patting her head lightly, ruffling at her hair. It's like what he's always done to Makoto — kindly, gently, a reminder that he's here. "Take as much time as you need to."

She could only nod.

The room is silent save for the constant _beep, beep_ of the monitor and the hissing of the ventilator that's keeping him — _his body_ alive. She walks closer, slowly, as if afraid to wake him up (he won't, not ever again), Aragaki sticking close enough to help, but far enough to give her space. Reluctantly, she places a hand on his cheek, soft but cold, and rubs along that little patch of skin under his eye.

 _You usually would've been up by now, with just a touch like this,_ she thinks. _You would've stirred awake and smiled at me when you see me touching your cheek. And you would kiss me good morning, then we'd go to the kitchen together. You'd always surprise me with a warm meal, and we'd continue our day just like that, kindly, warmly._

 _But you're not here anymore,_ the other, darker voice hisses. She bites her lip, and tugs the stray hair behind his ear a little. She closes her eyes and murmurs. "…I'm ready."

She's not, but she knows prolonging the inevitable now will do her no good.

There are rustles around her, and one by one the sounds are silenced. She keeps her eyes closed for what feels like a split second and an eternity before someone touches her shoulder. When she turns to look, Aragaki is there. He then pats her head softly before looking towards the bed again.

Makoto looks like he's just sleeping, but with the tube out of his throat, she's now faced with the fact that his chest has already stilled, and—

—This time, he's truly _gone_.

She lets herself collapses to the floor and cries until nothing makes sense anymore.

* * *

The air is stale, the world is silent.

A _lot_ of people, more than she could ever imagine, attend his funeral a few days later.

A rowdy monk who smokes a cigar, a small girl with her father and mother, an athlete she saw hanging out by the Strip Mall often, an older woman who holds a rugged notebook in her arms, an old couple from that Bookworm store, a businessman (is that _Tanaka?_ ) — they don't look like the type to ever be in the same space, yet here they all are, for a single person, _too young to die._

A lot of her classmates and underclassmen are here, too. Even Toriumi-sensei, who seems so cold and disinterested in her students, is _crying._ Odagiri and Fushimi are here, surprisingly, and that Gourmet King she's heard of. There are more, but her mind refuses to name all of them now, so she just returns her face to the closed casket before her.

She couldn't look. After the hospital, she couldn't bare to look at him, cold and unmoving and _dead_. She couldn't bare to see him like that. It _hurts_ so bad to see him that way, so she just _doesn't_. A part of her thinks she's running away from the truth, but she doesn't care anymore. She doesn't want to face it. She just wants to forget about all of this.

She feels a hand on her head, and looks up to see Aragaki. He isn't smiling, nor is he scowling, but there is that deep-seated sadness in his eyes as he keeps them on the casket. She doesn't — couldn't look anywhere else as the coffin ( _it's filled, it's filled with his body in there_ ) is lowered past the maws of the earth. The grave is then filled, slowly, surely, until it's covered.

 _This time,_ her mind says, stupidly inappropriate, stupidly _direct_. _This time, he really is gone, **dead** and **buried**._

She spends the next — she isn't sure how long, probably a while — moments standing there, not a drop of tear from her eyes, hands clutching the hem of her shirt tightly. The others, except for the SEES, leave as she waits and _waits_ for — _something_ to happen. What, though?

And then, she manages out through her teeth. "…So, this is it, huh…?"

"Yukari-san…" Aigis begins, but she couldn't focus on her, or on anyone.

"Ten years of suffering. A few months of being loved. And then, just like that, it's all _over_ ," She murmurs to the wind. She isn't even sure what she's thinking anymore. "He's snuffed out like a candle, leaving us to clean up his mess."

_You didn't mean it like that. You just miss him._

"And who's left to be tormented but us?"

_Please, stop. Don't say anything more. You didn't mean them._

"I wish I've never known him, never loved him," She says, the words so foul and so painful and they're biting through her tongue and tearing at her lips. "If I've never met him, then I wouldn't have to grief like this. I wouldn't have to suffer like this."

_Don't say it like loving him is a mistake._

"I wish I've never met him. I wish I've never fallen in love with someone like him."

_Someone that's so broken, that's so gentle, that's so kind. Someone that should've had a better life._

In the end, no one says anything more.

And she's left to drown in her own words as they rip and tear through her soul.

* * *

The air is stale, the world is silent.

The next few weeks are a blur of cram schools and clubs and work, work, _work_ , because nothing else makes sense. She locked everything away, threw every evidence of him into a box and kept it out of eyesight while keeping her head busy with whatever else she could've come up with as an excuses to cope with (to run away from) the loss.

It's easier to continue on with her duties and daily lives when she's not shackled down by anything. Just throw herself straight into the books and the school and the club, why not. Keeping her eyes off those _things_ that remind her of _him_ , keeping everyone else away lest the memories of the Dark Hour come back to haunt her.

She stops dreaming maybe two and a half days after the funeral.

But the world's… gray, it's almost colorless. Food is just as tasteless as ever before. She's neither sad nor happy, and living is as much of a drag as dying, she thinks. Talking with people is hard; she just wants to shut people away and mind her own business, gets into a good college, graduate and then earn some money that'd be enough to live comfortably. That's it, that's all she wants.

 _Is that really the case?_ A treasonous voice says from the inner depths of her heart, and she tries to turn it away, to snuff it. It only makes the voice louder, _harsher_ , like thunder striking against the surface of the raging sea. _You don't want this. You're just running away. You can't do this forever._

 _I can, just watch me_ , she hisses back, anger bubbling up her throat. _I can, and I will._

It all comes to a head when Mitsuru calls her about something happening to Aigis and the dorm, trapping her inside with _everyone else_ who reminds her of everything that's gone wrong. And to see _Orpheus_ dancing in the world, its face so familiar ( _no, please, don't use that face_ ), the songs from its lyre so tragic, so maddening — it's driving her up the walls.

Why is Aigis able to call for _that_ power?

The icing on top of the cake is when they reach the bottom floor of the Abyss of Time.

The Shadow takes the form of _him._

 _I miss you,_ a part of her says. But a bigger, fouler, _angrier_ part of her is hissing and lashing out. What remains in the pit of her stomach is the anger that's steadily growing and the disbelief that's slowly melting away like the last snow before spring. Then, that bigger part of her hisses. _Don't remind me of him, I don't want to remember._

It hurts to breathe, but they have to fight if they're going to end this nightmare.

So she takes the Evoker into her hand, and calls for her Persona, just one more time.

( _I miss you. I miss you so much. Please don't do this to me. Don't wear that face and fight us, I beg you._ )

* * *

Grief breeds monster.

To think such a Shadow is born from the SEES' own wish to see him again (she knows she wants to, a lot, deep down), it makes her want to throw up. But alas, the Shadow is now gone, and the Key is in their hands. They can leave this place.

But when Metis comes up with a proposition to look back to the past, to _change_ it (to save him), she just takes it without a second thought.

_I want to see you. I'll save you, this time._

Mitsuru is staying by her side, while the others say they need to move on. _Hypocrites_ , all of them. And Aigis, who _inherits_ his power, is undecided. To top it all off, _Aragaki_ is backing her up!

And when she has to face Aigis, she lets it all out; the little monsters she's fed her grieves and her fears and her ignorance to. She begins to say a _lot_ of things, true and otherwise, the words themselves biting into her own lips as she spits and snarls at _his_ inheritor, _his_ protégé. She couldn't understand them – why are they giving up on saving him when the chance is right here?

(Grief breeds monsters, and sadness blinds you. It's how things are, always – and she's _blinded_ , to the fact that things could've gone much differently, had she stopped him from going for Nyx's true body.)

And when the true key is formed, she couldn't help but try to take it from her.

"Give it to me! Give me that key!"

She tugs, she pulls, desperate. But then Metis, forever careful, forever _chiding_ , says with as much emotion as a _doll_. "It's no use. Only my sister can use the key now."

Yukari lets the words sink in, slowly descending towards the bottommost of her soul, sitting in the tar-like sludge of her ugly emotions. And when they do, she collapses, the truth of the situation – and her own selfish wishes, her own bottled-up emotions – finally brings her down, and the walls she's been carefully building up has finally come _undone_.

She lets herself cry all the grieves she's been refusing to feel, bawls out all the call for him to _come back_ into the floor, and wails into the darkness of the abyss. "I want to see him! I've left him alone, when he needed me most, and then – then I tried to put it all behind me. Maybe he would've wanted me to move forward, but I _can't!_ I want to see him! I want to _save_ him! I don't care about anything else!"

She can't put it all behind her. She's been lying to herself, all this time, that she could move forward by trying to run from his memories, by forgetting him, but she just _can't_. She _misses_ him. She wants him back. It hurts to breathe, and she wants nothing more than to feel his arms around her again.

"Yukari…" Mitsuru begins, kneeling down beside her. She doesn't look up as she tries – and fails – to stop the tears from flowing. "There's no way to truly put the past behind you. In the end, you only succeed in running from it. It's painful to face, but if you don't… your wounds will never heal."

"So if I keep facing it, someday everything will be okay, just like that?" She asks between sobs, hands pressed to her eyes, trying to stop herself. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to _remember_. "Eventually I'll forget all about him, or stop caring? I don't want to! I tried, but I can't! I don't want to forget him!"

_Loving him hurts. If I had never fallen in love with him, it might've not been this painful._

_But then that would mean that loving him is a **mistake**._

_It **isn't**._

"…I know," Mitsuru says slowly, and before she knows it, she's enveloped in a warm hug that she hadn't realized she _needs_ until this very moment. "But… can't we be there for you, when things are at their worst? The way you were there for me, last year?"

She looks up. And Mitsuru smiles at her.

"You were there, after I lost my will to live, remember? And… I consider that as one of the most cherished moments of my life. That's why… when we lost Yuuki without being able to even thank him, I swore that I'd be there for you, before myself, if you're suffering, if you're in pain."

"She's right," Aragaki joins, and a hand (so warm, so gentle, just like _his_ ) is on her head, ruffling her hair, patting her. "I know I ain't him, but… I hope I can be a shoulder for you to lean on, too. Just like he did for me, and like I did for him. We're _family_ , Takeba."

She isn't sure what she's supposed to say, so she just whimpers minutely.

And then, Aragaki kneels down beside her, a _smile_ on his face. "Makoto told me once; that to live is to connect, to bond, to love and be loved. To live is to suffer and to help others, to feel joy and sadness. Loss is inevitable, but… life is beautiful in its own way. Life is born from the bonds we share, so…"

He then points at his own chest, and then hers.

"As long as we remember, he'll be there, with us. _Always_."

Oh… She remembers, now.

_My life is defined as the bonds I've made, the very connections I've established. If I forget it all… it would've been as if I've never lived before. I can't allow that, not when this life belongs to all of you, not when this life is shaped and made by the things you've given me. If I choose to forget, it'd have meant that I choose to trample on everything you all have done for my sake._

"His life is defined as the bonds he's made with us," She whispers his words spoken to her in the dark not long ago, when Nyx was still there, and he's still _alive_. And then, she remembers – that he's not _gone_.

He's still here, with all of them.

"Yeah," Aragaki hums. "He's still here, within all of us, as long as we remember what we've shared."

She then buries her face into Mitsuru's embrace.

She's been an _idiot_ all this time – to think she' trying to _forget_ him, to think she's trying to bury his memories six feet under. If she's done that, it would've meant that he's never _lived_ at all, it would've meant that he's truly gone.

But he's still right here, with all of them, in their hearts.

As long as they remember, he'll be with them.

 _Always_.

* * *

Grief truly breeds monsters.

She remembers briefly wishing for death, when he was gone. To think such a brief wish for demise, from her, from people around the world, would be able to give birth to a monstrosity like _Erebus_.

But this time, she knows better.

He became the Seal to give the world a tomorrow, to give them a tomorrow, to give _her_ a future she could look forward to. So, now that she's here, she's going to keep marching forward, with his memories in her heart — something she would cherish for as long as she live and breathe.

He's watching, and she'll face her fears head on. She'll not run away ever again.

* * *

When the time loop is over, and Aigis is awake (oh god, she's not _dead_ , thank god), they all kind-of celebrate the longer-than-a-week day with a hefty meal, by the one and only Aragaki.

While Aragaki is tending to the kitchen, she finds Aigis and, once the android's attention is on her, bows her head and apologizes. "I'm sorry for all the things I've said, Aigis. All those were uncalled for."

"It's quite alright, Yukari-san," She says with a warm, gentle smile that reminds her so much of _his_. She then places a hand on her shoulder as she continues. "I can't say I understand your pain, but I know it must've hurt a lot… you were the one he shared his deepest bond with, the one he loved the most, and you're the one who love him more than anyone else. So… I can understand your reasons for lashing out."

"Doesn't excuse me for being a bitch, though," She says, ashamed. "…So, yeah, I'm sorry, Aigis. About everything that I've done for the past month."

Then Aragaki yells from the kitchen. "Those _Phanta Rhei's_ hurt like shit, you know!"

"Sorry," She grumbles.

"They did damage my chassis quite a bit," Aigis hums with a small smile.

Yukari couldn't help but groan a little. After a pause, they share a quite laughter. "But… yeah, I'm glad you beat some senses back into me. Who knows what kind of hellfire I would've summoned if I had gone through with changing the past."

"You're most welcomed, Yukari-san."

She then turns to Mitsuru, and once the heiress catches her eyes, she bows deeply. "And thank _you_ , Senpai, for everything. You've done so much for me."

"As you have for me," She hums, patting the chair next to her. "Come. Shinjirou is almost done. You should take a seat before he starts yelling at you about it."

"I guess," She giggles a little and join the team.

After a few more minutes, Aragaki starts decorating the table with myriad dishes that never fails to make her gape. But what catches her eyes are some of her favorite food (much like what Makoto had always prepared for her) on the table. When she looks up, Aragaki just shrugs before sitting down.

"Before you dig in," He says. She then notices that all of them are eyeing their plates much like she just did, with a bit of awe and confusion. "He told me about what your favorites are, so I just made those for you. Y'know… in his memories, or something."

"…I didn't realize he knew," Mitsuru mumbles quietly before smiling. "As attentive as only he could be."

"He told you when?" Sanada asks, looking at his _steak_. "And I didn't know he actually _knew_ my—"

"A toddler could've guessed your favorite, Aki, can it," He says before continuing. "But… he had known for a while that he was going to die, so… he'd made sure to leave things behind, in case you guys don't remember him in time."

She whimpers a little at that, remembering that _no_ , it's not just her that forgot.

Before she could wallow in her own misery, Aragaki continues, as if to cut off all of their thoughts. "He's written all of us some… parting words, and an open letter he wanted me to read to you guys. So you better wake up early tomorrow, because gathering like this after we move out of the dorm's going to be a bitch."

"…And you _just_ told us this, now, when you've had a _month_ to say something?" Mitsuru accuses, earning some hums of agreements from the team.

"You said as if y'all are really _here_ and mentally prepared to listen, Mitsuru."

Yukari opens her mouth to retort, but comes up blank. It's true; she's seen it. It's not just her that's not dealing with the loss the healthy way. Hell, Aigis' _humanity_ decides to turn into Metis, and the others are running away or trying to move on much like she did, albeit a bit differently.

Not only that, some of them were just… not having their heads in the right place.

"…Good point," Is what Mitsuru ends up saying after a heavy sigh.

"Let's read the letter tomorrow morning, 9 am, sharp," He says. "I've not read _anything_ he's written me yet, but I can tell you that the damn letter is _long_. Very, _very_ long."

"Sounds like him," She says. Then she frowns a little. "…Parting words _and_ an open letter?"

"Trust me when I say he wrote a _lot_ of shit within the span of a _month_ ," Aragaki says with a huffs as he passes them their utensils. "I've not read any of mine. Figures I'm gonna finish the open letter first."

"I see…"

"Well, let's dig in first, or it's gonna get too late," He says with finality. "To us. _All_ of us."

"To us," They echo.

* * *

She, yet again, finds herself in his room, probably for the last time.

The scent is just the same, like coffee and fallen snow, even when she hadn't been in here since his funeral. Everything's cleaned out, his MP3 in Aragaki's possession. But it smells just the same, feels just the same. The air is no longer stale, and she could hear hums of crickets, and the whistling of the gentle spring wind outside.

She moves to sit on the bed, now cold with disuse. She then pulls out the key he's given her in his final day, the key that she'd put away for so long, and takes it into her grasp once again.

"I'm sorry," She says to the silence, no longer deafening, but _comforting_. She could imagine him here, right beside her, with his hand on hers. "I'm sorry, for trying to forget you, for trying to run away, for trying to undo everything you've done for me — for _all_ of us."

She waits, for him to hear her words.

Then, "I'm going to say that… I'm alright now. I'll be okay, so don't worry, alright?"

She puts the key around her neck again, the cool metal resting snugly on her chest.

_Loving you is **never** a mistake._

"So… please watch me. I'll never forget you, not in a million years, and I'll move forward _for_ you," She says, and she could imagine him smiling at her, could imagine him hugging her and murmuring little nothings into her ear as she leans against him. "I'm excited and anxious to hear and read what you've left for me, so… yeah, I guess there's that, too."

_Even if I can turn back time, I'll still choose to fall in love with you, always._

"You've done enough, so rest easy, now, and watch over all of us. And… I'll miss you."

She then smiles.

"I love you, Makoto."

_Always have, always will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! There's that, I guess. Kinda lighthearted in the end, but oh well!
> 
> Next chapter is the Epilogue, and a week or two after I'll start posting another longfic that's more or less a direct sequel to this one? Hmm
> 
> Also, no angst next chapter, you can rest your heart now lol


	27. Epilogue: The Things Left Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before they continue on living their futures he's created, Makoto left something behind as a proof of his existence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this one is actually a bit more lightheart than I had intended?
> 
> Go ahead, and finish this story at your own pace, people! :D

**_Epilogue: The Things Left Behind_ **

"Where's Shinji?"

She comes down to hear Sanada says that, his arms crossed, eyebrows slightly raised. She then dumps the last of her bags on the piles that the others have made and sit down next to Fuuka. When she sees that, indeed, Aragaki and his belongings are missing, she then asks, "He's not here yet?"

"And to think _he's_ the one telling us to be right on time," Sanada huffs.

"It's only 8.50 am, Sanada-san," Amada says as he ruffles Koromaru's head. The dog gives out a bark before hopping onto the sofa and curling up next to him. "Cut him some slack."

"Are you anxious, Akihiko?" Mitsuru says with a small smile as she hands Yukari a cup of tea, like she always does. She accepts it with a small nod.

"Of course I am," He says, crossing his arms harder. "From what interactions I've had with Yuuki for the past year, I'm sure as hell he's gonna pull a rug under my ass with this open letter."

"I'm sure someone like you'd have nothing _that_ embarrassing to be afraid of, Senpai," She says with a giggle, to which Fuuka joins in.

To her surprise, Sanada actually coughs into his elbow while Mitsuru chuckles. "Oh, Yukari, you don't know the _half_ of it."

"Care to give us an example?" Fuuka asks with a devious grin that often comes to her when she'd tease both her and Makoto about a lot of things with cleverly-hidden sexual innuendos.

Ooh boy.

"Of course, I'd be happy to."

"Mitsuru, _no_."

"Kirijou-senpai, _yes_ ," Junpei says with a sharp grin. "Spill! I wanna know his secrets!"

"Junpei, you _betrayer—_ "

They laugh and share some small stories together for a while. Sanada's little bedroom shenanigans with Mitsuru is quite a fun story, or when he ended up frozen while buck-naked for unknowingly trying to peep Mitsuru the _first_ time is also hilarious. And then it's her turn to get grilled about _that_ night (why must the wall be impact-sensitive? And they weren't even going at it _that_ hard!), and then it's Junpei's sappiness over Yoshino.

They talk for a while before they hear Aragaki coming down the stairs with two duffle bags and a _crate_ , with almost a dozen paper bags, all in his arms and on his shoulders. Junpei rushes over to help, and he only hands him the duffle bags while he caries the box and the paper bags to the lounge's coffee table.

After setting everything down, he says. "…So yeah, this is all he's left us."

"…That's a lot?" Fuuka says, tilting her head slightly. "…What are these?"

He lifts the paper bags first, pointing at the names written on each of them. None has hers, however. "These are the gifts he had for each of us. He said he's already given you yours, Takeba."

It took her a while before she recalls the box he had handed her on Valentine's Day. "…Oh. Yeah."

"And the box?"

"Diaries, also for each of us," He says, scrunching his nose slightly. "How in the fuck he wrote for all of us in a month intrigues me. The diaries are pretty thin, though, since he's short on time when he started."

They all fall silent at that.

"But!" The man then says, pulling out a few pieces of folded papers from the box, unfolding them, then straightening them out. He frowns a little as he reads the first paper, written with overly large letters. Then, with a growl, he says. "Fuck _off_ , Makoto, you absolute _dick_."

"What? What did it say?" She says, slightly peeved by Aragaki's insult to her loved one, and also partly curious as to what kind of words he's written to have gotten such a response.

Sanada then suddenly snatches the paper out of Aragaki's hands, and Mitsuru is there to hold him back as the boxer reads the words. After a moment, he bursts out laughing. "Holy shit, he knew exactly how to diss you properly, Shinji!"

"Can it, Aki!" He growls, but cowers when Mitsuru gives him an icy stare.

"What did it say, Akihiko?" The heiress ask, curiosity clear in her tone.

"So, here," He coughs once, before reading aloud the first of many words. " _Before we begin with this overtly sappy and maybe a little incongruous farewell letter; Shinjirou-senpai, if you leave out any part of this letter unread, be it due to embarrassment or any reasons other than it being life-threatening — and I know you're thinking about doing just that because we both know what a shy little goofball you are — let me remind you that you do not have that right. Someone's going to read those parts for you anyways, so **suck it up** and **read** it. Including the parts where I mentioned you being an absolute hot mess of a human being and falling in love with a certain **someone**. Of course, with love, Makoto._"

There's a beat of silence before they all chuckle and giggle while Aragaki rips the letter out of Sanada's grasp and grumbles, but still careful enough to not crumple it in his hands. After a moment, Mitsuru snickers. "I see now why you'd say that to our departed Leader. Still, it's not very nice of you, Shinjirou."

"Being _dead_ doesn't mean you get to write it like _this_ ," He growls, but relents and looks past the first paragraph. He then frowns again. "…Seriously, Makoto? _Seriously?_ "

"What is it now?" Sanada says with a wide grin. "If you're not going to read it, I will—"

"I'll do it, thanks," He snaps, inhaling sharply, then sits down. "Alright, here goes; _And, as a fair warning to all of you, the open letter is not meant to be a somber farewell. Please do expect some… dubious and inappropriate writings. Also, sorry in advance, Yamagishi; I know I told you I won't be telling a damn soul about what happened back then, but the weight loss belt is just a little bit too funny to ignore._ "

A pause, then Yukari says. "…Weight loss belt?"

"Yuuki-kun!" Fuuka exclaims, her face red. "You told me you won't tell anyone!"

"Looks like the cats are gonna be spilled onto the floor now, everyone," Aragaki says. "Good _god_ , what the fuck did he get us into?"

"Let's just get started. This is going to be _entertaining_ ," Sanada says with a small laughter, one that seems more nervous than jovial.

"Sanada-san, your readings say that you are incredibly stressed," Aigis deadpans, drawing out a smug look from Aragaki. "Are you certain you will be enjoying this?"

"Oh, _absolutely_ ," He says flatly. "I absolutely will both love and hate Yuuki for this."

"Aren't we all?" Aragaki mutters. "Well, let's begin, then."

_"First and foremost, I'm sorry._

_I've figured out the way to stop Nyx since a bit before Christmas. That's exactly the time I know I am going to die. I've made peace with it since that day, so if you think I suffered through the last month, don't; it's only physical, and it's not that bad. Being weak and being in pain are two different things. I might be weak, but I am — was — quite alright."_

"…The mood just shift, thank _you_ , dipshit," Aragaki adds, but she could see him wiping his tears away. He sighs again before shaking his head. "But seriously, you knew a _month_ before I do?"

"…To think he'd made peace so quickly and so resolutely," Mitsuru says quietly. "I would never be able to prepare myself like that, knowing I'd die."

"I think he might be the only one who could," She says slowly. "He's _friends_ with Death for the majority of his life, after all."

"That's true," Fuuka hums. "…You can continue, Senpai."

A deep breath.

_"I wish I could've witnessed spring with all of you. If there had been any other way, I would've taken it without a second thought, but there were none. Still, I think I might be able to hold out long enough to feel the spring wind and to see you guys again just one more time. I think that is the best outcome for all of this, for me._

_Don't feel sorry for me. I've lived a good life, thanks to all of you. To live is to feel both happiness and sorrow, both joy and suffering. To live is to bond, to connect. We are shaped by the friendships and the loves we've shared, and my life — made and molded by all of you — is the best I could've asked for. So, thank you, for this invaluable gift called life. Thank you, for everything."_

She wipes the tears away from her own eyes and inhales sharply. Some of the SEES are also sniffing a little at that. She then mutters. "And you wrote that this is not a somber farewell."

"As I said, he's the _asshole_ ," Aragaki says flatly. His face then softens, and he smiles. "To live is to bond, huh… that sounds just like him. And by now, I know that it's the truth."

She sighs. "And he's got to start with _this_. I don't know if my heart can take reading the diaries or not."

"Probably not," Junpei mumbles. "But, continue, Senpai."

_"I've addressed all of you separately in the diaries, so be sure to read them, alright? I'm quite short on time, so if there are things that's left unsaid, let me be clear that I can't hold a grudge against any of you for anything, big or small._

_That includes you, Junpei. You still haven't returned me my limited edition Pokemon collections, you asshole."_

"…Junpei…" Everyone in the room turns to him.

"I didn't mean to, okay!? I forgot!" He whines.

"Oh, he wrote in a tiny sentence here," Aragaki says, eyeballing the paper a little. "… _You can keep them, not like Yukari or Shinjirou-senpai are going to be interested in them anyway. And fuck Venusaur, I hate that thing."_

"Dude, that's not cool at all!"

"Saying that to the dead guy, like it's going to change anything," Aragaki rolls his eyes.

"Said the one who told him to fuck off a few minutes ago?" Sanada jabs.

"Oh _shut up_."

_"This is an open letter, so I can't outright write everything here. But I'll address you all how I know best, so bear with me for a bit, okay?_

_Junpei, you're an idiot_ ("Dude, don't open it like that!") _but you're determined and kind. Be sure to live with a goal in mind, alright? I know you can do anything if you want to. And say hi to Yoshino-san for me. I hope the two of you have a happy relationship ahead of you._

_I really have never minded you coming into my personal space. I know you meant well, and believe it or not, you've helped liven up things quite a bit. Thank you for staying there with me. You're a good friend, and I hope you'll do okay in school next year. We all know how you suck at studying."_

"…Fuck you, Makoto."

"Told you he's _the_ asshole," Aragaki snickers. Yukari could see Junpei pouting a little through the bits of tears, and she smiles. She's never known Makoto could be so… _humorous_ like this. A part of her dreads having her secrets brought out, but, oh well.

"Still, I think I'll get to read more of his thoughts in the diaries, right?" Junpei says with a small laughter. "Damn, man, you were awesome."

"There's one more line. Here; _Good luck, Junpei. You've given me much. I hope life would treat you well, from now on. And you are a good man, and a better person than yesterday, always. Don't ever doubt yourself, alright?_ "

A sniff. "…Love you, man."

"Alright, next," Aragaki hums.

_"Yamagishi, I'm going to begin by cursing you for all the **friendly remarks** you've thrown my way and all the stupid sexual jokes and innuendos you've fired at me. I hate you for that, like, **really** hate you for that."_

"…Fuuka, I thought you only teased him _sometimes?_ " Yukari questions, eyes narrowing.

The navigator gives her a sheepish laughter, looking away, a flat smile on her feature. "Ehehe… I, uh, might have done that more than… a few… _dozen_ … times?"

"You _what_."

"Oh, trust me," Aragaki says, almost gleefully. "Those've been some _fun_ times."

"Senpai!" She says, betrayed. "What did you guys do to him?"

"Same we did to you, only worse," Aragaki snorts.

"Seriously?"

She's then promptly ignored as Fuuka giggles and says _sorry_ with a not so sorry face. Aragaki rolls his eyes and continues.

_"Aside from that, I'm glad you're much more forceful about what you want. Stop being shy and allowing people to take advantage of you, Yamagishi. Be kind, but also be firm. Don't back down from things you want to have, don't allow other people to trample you. You are your own person, not **less.**_

_Say it when you hate something or want something done. You can't just sit back and let other people dictate your life. It's yours to shape, and the path is yours to make. You're strong, Yamagishi. I know you can do whatever you want, should you put your mind to it._

_And please, stopping grilling Yukari so much?"_

Fuuka laughs at the last part and mumbles. "Sorry, Yuuki-kun, but I think I never will."

Yukari just sighs before smiling slightly.

The navigator then murmurs. "But I guess what he's written is true. Okay… I'll try my best."

"I'm sure you can do it," She says, patting Fuuka's knee lightly.

Aragaki gives them a moment to recompose before turning his gaze back down. He then hums. "Looks like he thought you and Koro should stay together, Amada."

The boy tilts his head slightly. "Really?"

"Yeah," Aragaki says with a smile.

_"Amada, I've never, **never** blamed you for anything that had happened. If you're going to blame anyone, blame Takaya for trying to kill people, not yourself for trying to carry out your justice."_

"He said that every time I brought it up," Amada says with a small smile. "Guess it's pretty clear I'm still hung up on that, huh?"

"Not that I blame you, kid," Aragaki says. "Revenge can be… pretty compelling, at times. And anger can blind you. I know this best."

_"You're headstrong, you're smart, and you're kind. We are alike, you and I — we lost someone dear to us to circumstances that are neither fair nor kind. But life is just that — it treats everyone equally, unjust as it may be. But you didn't let that break you. You're stronger than I was, than I am. Be proud."_

"I think it's you who's downplaying yourself, Yuuki-san," Amada mutters. He rubs Koromaru's head as he nuzzles at the boy's hand.

"Hate to say, but _both_ of you are just like that," The older boy sighs loudly. "Although, truth be told, he's much worse than you, Amada."

The boy snickers slightly. "If it isn't the truth."

_"Take care of yourself out there. I believe that nothing is beyond you. But take a moment to reflect, to be a **kid** , sometimes. Don't make mistakes like I had and rob yourself of your childhood simply because you want to be responsible. Put things down and enjoy yourself sometimes. Ask Koro, I think he knows best how to play._

_And stop drinking coffee. Trust me, being addicted to caffeine is the **last** thing you want."_

"Bullseyes," Aragaki chuckles as Amada looks away with a small pout.

But his face breaks into a smile as he nods. "I will, Yuuki-san. And I'll be alright, not like I like the taste of coffee much, anyways…"

"Yeah, with how you barf out pure black last I serve you, I think you should just stop too, kid."

"Aragaki-san!"

" _Woof!_ " Koromaru barks as he wags his tail lightly, his snout on Amada's hand again. It looks like the dog is… _laughing?_

"See? Koro agrees with me!" Aragaki says.

"No, he doesn't!"

 _"Woof! Woof!_ "

"He totally does!" Aragaki retorts.

Aigis, ever so helpful, says, "He said that Amada-san should stop drinking the black liquid. Koromaru also does not like the smell."

At this, Amada snarls. " _Traitor_."

They laugh.

After a moment's pause, Aragaki turns his eyes to the papers again, and they wait for him to say something. This time, however, he takes a moment to read the content before looking up at Mitsuru. "Next is you, and I'mma say, right now, that don't you dare freeze my ass for _his_ words, 'kay?"

"…I make no such promise," She says, eyes slightly narrowed. Yukari could practically feel the air _freezes_ from where she is, across from the heiress. Much to her relief, Mitsuru just smiles and waves her hand. "I am only joking. Please, proceed."

"…You ain't giving me choices now, are ya?" He mumbles under his breath before coughing lightly.

_"Kirijou-senpai, first of all, thank you for not executing me back in Kyoto. Like, really, **thank you**. I, never in a million years, would want to be at the receiving end of your wrath. I'm sorry for being there, even if it's not entirely my fault? Blame Ryoji on that one, please, thank you."_

She huffs a little. "A bit late, and not entirely apologetic, but I'll accept it, Yuuki."

"Why are you lenient to him and not to me or Aki?" Aragaki mutters, immediately getting an icy glare in return. He just grumbles and continues.

_"We might not have interacted much, but I can see how much the weight of your family name brings you down. Remember this; you're not bound by your blood or your lineage, but by your own thoughts and actions. Don't let the mistakes of the people that are not **you** dictates what you are, Senpai. You're you, and I'm quite certain you'll do just fine, from here on out._

_I'm glad Yukari's managed to break your shell, much faster and more thorough than I did. I'm sorry for not being able to help much, but I hope I've managed to give you something during our time together. You're like a sister I've never had to me, and I appreciate everything you've done. I'm sorry for causing you some time and trouble, especially with the psychiatrists and the hospital._

_Thank you, for everything that you've done for me. And live, sometimes. Don't work yourself into the ground, okay? You're just a year older than I am, a high schooler who's starting college soon. Go have fun. You only live once, right?"_

There's a long moment of silence, and then Mitsuru chuckles lightly. She wipes a single drop away before speaking quietly. "You've done for me as much as I for you, Yuuki. There's really no need for you to apologize so much, you know."

"That's just how he was, I'm afraid," Yukari says, smiling slightly. "And… what did he do, hanging out with you? Uh… sorry for asking."

"Taking me to Paulownia Mall and the Strip Mall," She replies, making Aragaki splutters on his drink. He quickly wipes his face and looks away when Mitsuru gives him a stink eye. "He helped me… see things I've never even tried to see, experience things I've never considered fruitful. So… He helped me live my life a little. I'm grateful for that."

"You still gotta work on it more, though," Aragaki says, and quickly adds. "No offense."

There's an uncomfortable pause, follows by a low, almost inaudible growl. But then, she says. "…None taken… I think."

"Next!" Aragaki quickly shouts and continues reading while sweating bullets.

_"Sanada-senpai, the last few times we go about our shenanigans together is one of the most entertaining moments, so thank you. If I'd known you're the lightweight one, I would've drunk you under the table more often than that. It's fun seeing you all red and incoherent."_

"Shut _up_ ," Sanada growls. "It's not my fault—"

"That you can't hold alcohol, like, _at all?_ " Aragaki says with a snort. "Yeah, _Mitsuru_ is a better drinker than you, Aki. You _suck_ at this."

"I do _not!_ " He snaps, making them laugh a little.

"I'll have to agree with Shinjirou on this one, Akihiko," Mitsuru says, a finger on her chin, a small smile on her lips. "We've seen how bad of a drinker you are."

"God _damnit_ , Mitsuru!"

"Alright, alright, settle down, or we're never going to finish this thing," Aragaki hums, amused.

_"Aside from that, if Kirijou-senpai is the sister, then you're one of the two brothers to me. We might not have interacted much before, well, October, but the time with you proved to be quite enlightening. You're kind, maybe a bit oblivious, but you aren't afraid of admitting your own faults and trying to move forward with your beliefs intact. I have always wanted to be like that, so keep those qualities with you and do not let them go._

_Thank you for sticking up to me, thank you for being another shoulder for me to lean on sometimes, thank you for all the advices that I have and don't have the chance to apply. Take care, and try not to rush headlong into everything. Think about yourself, too, not just others. You have Shinjirou-senpai with you, so I know you'd be able to balance out each other._

_Best of luck, Senpai."_

"…Yeah, I will," He murmurs, smiling slightly at that. Then he sighs. "And he had to slap me with the advices that he had and _didn't have_ the chances to use, too. Goddamnit."

"So you admit you're the bullheaded one who always rush into danger head-on?" Mitsuru says, amused, her smile slightly wider than a minute prior.

To Yukari's surprise, Sanada actually shrugs at that. "No point lying. He's the most observant of all of us, so there really is no point denying it. Then again, if he's cautioning me to think more, then I will. That's what a brother would do for a departed family, right?"

"You're correct," The heiress says. Then, a nod. "Please, proceed."

Aragaki nods, eyes returning to the papers.

_"Aigis, first of all, I still remember that day on July where you broke into my room and woke me up five minutes before alarm, thanks, I **don't** appreciate it."_

Yukari winces; she remembers that one quite well. She thinks Makoto hit his head on Aigis' on that occasion too, hadn't he?

To this, Aigis only lets out a sheepish laughter. "…I apologize for any inconvenience I caused you."

Aragaki snorts.

_"But, aside from that, I'm sorry for not remembering you. I was blinded by my own helplessness and my own pain that I didn't even remember **you** there, on that Bridge, ten years ago. If I had remembered sooner, maybe things would have been different. Maybe you wouldn't have to be broken and in pain, physically and emotionally, like you did._

_That night had been… hard. Ryoji had told me that I put those memories away because it hurts to remember, but that is not an excuse to forsake someone. So, I'm sorry, for forgetting you. And what you did isn't wrong; it was the only way, at the time, to prevent the end of the world. I never blamed you for anything that had happened, you know? And because of what you did, I get to be here, I get to have friends and family I care about, I get to live a life I can proudly say I will never trade for anything. So… I'm sorry. And thank you."_

There's a beat of silence, and Aigis looks down at her own feet, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She then mumbles quietly, unlike her usual monotonous voice. "…You shouldn't be thanking me for doing something so absolutely vile, Makoto-san. I caused you so much pain. It's not a _thank you_ that you should be saying."

"But he did, anyway," Yukari says, patting Aigis' shoulder lightly. When the android turns to her, she smiles and continues. "If he's thanking you, then he truly appreciates what you did, Aigis. Don't think he would lie about something like this; he usually said exactly what he thought. If it's not a good thought, he would've kept quiet. But he didn't, so trust in him, and take the thank you with stride, okay?"

Aigis laughs a little. "If you insist, Yukari-san."

"I do."

_"You're human, now, not your body, but your soul. Cherish this life well, and use it however you wish, okay? I know you won't take a life for granted, but do enjoy it, from time to time. You might have been built as a weapon of war, but you're you, you're Aigis, an irreplaceable life. Live how you want to, and don't let anyone else dictates your path but yourself."_

"I will, Makoto-san. I will."

There's a long pause, where Aragaki simply reads the letter in silence. Unlike at first, Sanada doesn't press for his friend to read it aloud right away, and Yukari would've done the same thing. Sometimes, it's hard to read out the last words of someone you see as your own kin, especially when they're directed at you.

There's a short laugh and a shake of head, follows by a growl, and a sniff. A range of emotions that the others have shown during the read, so she guesses Makoto might've pulled a few rugs before going down to business?

Then, Aragaki sighs, putting the papers down. He then roughly wipes something from his eyes – _tears_ , no doubt about it. It's Sanada who speaks first, a hand on Aragaki's knee. "Shinji, if it's hard, you don't have to read it to us."

"I will," He murmurs quietly, a small smile on his face. "He told me he wanted me to read every last bit, hadn't he? So I will, even if it's addressed to me. It's the least I could do."

_"Shinjirou-senpai, where the hell do I even begin?_

_Our first meeting and the subsequent run-ins were less than ideal, but I'm glad I got the chance to know you. Who would've thought you to be the soft, moe-type character who cares more than he should and who could cook like a housewife? You're an ideal housewife in every sense of the words. Except your sex, of course, unless you swing **that** way."_

They laugh at the housewife comments, which only serves to make Aragaki even redder than he already is. Sanada pats his back a few times, urging him to continue through the tears of laughter.

_"Thank you for all you've done since you first met me. All those warm meals during hard, stressful days, all those cooking lessons and techniques you've taught me, all the warm shoulders you've given me when I needed someone to talk to, someone to confide in, someone to confess my fears – thank you for always being there._

_Right now, during my final days, I know you realize how hard it has been for me. Thank you for remembering; without you, I might not have made it as far as I had. I wish you'd be there, too, when the time comes – if I fail, it is solely my fault, because you've done more than I could ever wished for. Sorry for dragging you out for drinks at Club Escapade at times, but I sorely needed those, you see."_

"…He still _drank_ during the last month?" Is what Yukari ended up asking, incredulous. She vaguely remembers him saying something about alcohol hating him, but she thought he was joking.

"Yep!" Aragaki barks out a laugh. "And it's _his_ idea, not mine, don't fucking give me a stink eye, please, thanks."

_"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused you, Senpai, and thank you for everything. You're the closest to me, a family I've never had, a sibling I've always wished for, just like Sanada-senpai and Mitsuru-senpai. Take care of yourself, and of each other, okay? I know you want to be a professional cook, and I know you can. You absolutely can – don't let anyone else tell you otherwise._

_And hey… grow a ball and ask her out already! I know you like her."_

Aragaki ends it by folding the papers and sighs loudly.

"Who's _her?_ " Sanada asks. "…If it's Mitsuru, I'm gonna punch you—"

"Akihiko, don't say that in public, it's _embarrassing!_ " Mitusu chides, face as read as her burgundy hair. She is, however, promptly ignored.

"No, it ain't, you fucking _idiot_ ," He growls, glances at Yukari, then at Fuuka, before looking away with his face beet red. It dawns on her instantly–

"You like _Fuuka?_ "

"What!? Shinji, really?"

"W-w-w-what!?" She hears Fuuka exclaims, her face also matching the other two. It's quite a funny sight for Yukari, if anyone asks, and the surreality of it all is absolutely _hilarious_. "I mean, w-what!? Why d-why do you even _like_ me, or rather, _when? How_?"

She had known from Makoto that they used to do three-person cooking sessions before, but that somehow fell out and turned into two separated two-on-two. He always smiled a little when he mentioned it, but she never knew why, not until _now_ , anyways.

Aragaki's already so red that it's not even funny anymore, and he mumbles through crows of laughter from the members of the SEES. "…Just, um… you are kind and smart and all that, and your cooking has improved, too, or somethin'…"

"That's a _shit_ way to ask a girl out, Senpai!" Junpei interjects.

"Oh, can it!" Aragaki yells before turning to Fuuka again. "…well, cat's out of the bag, so… would you, huh… go out with me? Sometimes?"

Then she hears a small, almost inaudible mumbles. "…I would love to, Senpai."

There's a pause where everybody's not believing what they had just heard. And then they break into cheers and whistles, with Sanada ruffling his hair, Mitsuru patting his back. She decides to nudge Fuuka's rib a little, getting back at her for all the comments she had made about her and Makoto.

Seeing the two of them squirm is quite fun, if she has to be honest. After a few moments of them just grilling each other about their love lives, the laughter die down.

All that's left is about her, and Aragaki is looking at her directly. "…Do you want me to read it, or do you want to read it alone?"

They all know how close she was with Makoto, and they're respecting her privacy. While they're alright with their secrets being out in the open, they are also giving her a chance to let whatever he wanted to write to her go with her and her alone. She smiles, appreciating their thoughtfulness and their cares, but she doesn't want that.

If he wanted this letter to be read aloud, then she'd have it read just as it is. No need to shy away now. Besides, Aragaki said there are _more_ that he's written for them. She's certain any mentions of private secrets would be written there, and not here, in the open letter. So she shakes her head. "It's okay, Senpai. He did want you to read it out loud, so go ahead. Not like you all are going to grill me _harder_ than you already have, anyways."

"You got that right, Yukari-cchi," Junpei laughs.

Aragaki smiles a little before coughing once. "Then, here I go."

_"I'll try to keep this as your face-friendly as possible._

_The only thing I'll ever complain about you is how hard your slap is. I find your courage and your unique approaches to things endearing, and I have never minded how you forced the issues with me. I kind of needed those, since I know full well just how stubborn and quiet I am. I've rarely unsealed my lips for anyone, and you and Shinjirou-senpai are the only ones who've ever made me talked like I did._

_…But seriously, don't go slapping another person. You could've killed someone with it, and I'm one hundred percent serious here. I could've **died** , you know."_

She blinks a little – he's never minded anything else she's said and done, both deserving and uncalled for? She finds herself sniffing a little at that, then giggles that the only thing he wanted to complain about is her slap, and not anything else. She finds it strange, but relieving. "Of all the things, you're complaining about a slap and _nothing else?_ Really?"

"We all know how absolutely head over heels he was for you, kid," Aragaki says, rolling his eyes, making her face slightly heated up. "But hey, at least he complained about _something_."

"Shinji, that's not _nice!_ "

He promptly ignores Sanada as he continues.

_"It would make the open letter too long if I write everything down here, so do read the rest later in the diaries I'm going to be giving to you through Shinjirou-senpai afterwards._

_I love you. With all my heart, since that day you spoke to me after the Emperor and Empress Full Moon Shadows. You're the first one that's actively trying to bring me out of my shell and my sorrow, the first one to try to ease my pain, the first one after my parents and my foster mother to every truly care about me and not what I could do._

_Even if I get the chance to live again only to die, even if I have to perish before seeing you one last time on Graduation day, I'd still choose to fall in love with you. I love you with my everything. You are my everything – my guiding light, my sun. I love you – always have, and always will, for not as long as I breathe, but for as long as I still retain my sense of self._

_There is so much life still has to offer, so after I'm gone – probably already would have, when this letter reached you – go out there, and live. Be happy. Be free. You can do anything; I've always believed that. Love like you always do, live like you always do, and carry yourself with pride. Cherish your friends and family well, too, okay? Your mother is still your mother, even if she coped with loss differently from you. So reconnect, and keep your friendships and your love close to you._

_Thank you, for everything."_

It usually would've made the SEES coo and laugh and joke around about how sappy it is, but she finds that they are actually contemplating on his words. She knows it's meant not just for her, but also for everyone else, too, by proxy.

She wipes away the tears that's flowing, and murmurs, with Fuuka and Aigis' hands on her shoulder and knee, respectively. "…I love you, too. Always have, always will."

_Thank you, too. Loving you is **never** a mistake._

_If given another chance, I'd still choose to fall in love with you again._

She's given a moment to cry out her sorrow, and after a few minutes, Aragaki mutters. "There's still a few sentences left, addressing all of us… plus a few post scripts too, with the words _for shits and giggles_ at the top. Way to end this, you little shit."

"Shinjirou, respect the dead, would you?" Mitsuru says, without much bite in her words.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," He says, rolling his eyes. "You ready, Takeba?"

She still couldn't find her voice, so she nods. With that, Aragaki continues.

_"I'll close this out by saying that I love all of you. You're the family I've always wanted, always needed. You all are irreplaceable to me. You all are precious to me. I wish we could meet again, just one more time, on the Promised Day. But even if we don't, remember that I've always remembered, and always will remember you, that you're important to me. I love you all dearly, and I'll always be, for as long as I can._

_Don't cry too much when I'm gone. Don't weep for too long – even when you weep and drown in sorrow, time will never wait for you. It'll continue to march forward; it'll continue to flow. You can cry, you can be sad, but don't do that for too long, okay? You still have a lot ahead of you. So, I will ask for a favor; remember me, because I'll be there for you if you do. But don't bind yourself to me, don't let my death weigh you down. Instead, carry my memories with you wherever you go. I don't know if it's possible or not, but if I could, I'll be watching over you._

_Life is a precious gift; to live is to die, to live is to bond, to live is to connect, to live is to experience both happiness and sorrow, joy and pain. To me, my life is defined by what I have with all of you, and everyone that I've talked to, that I've connected with. So, all of you **are** me, in a sense. You shape my life, you define what I am._

_We are connected – always have been, always will be. I'll be there right beside you, as long as you remember the bonds we've shared._

_With love – Yuuki Makoto. March 2nd, 2010."_

There are no words for what he's just written for them, no words for how thoughtful he is. The only thing they could've done now is to live their lives to the fullest, _for_ him, and carry him in their hearts. They exchange a look before smiling at each other, all of them coming to the same resolve to make these lives of theirs worth as much as they could.

They take a moment to ingest the words fully, to let his last wishes wash over them, to steel their wills and their resolves to live their lives like how he wanted them to. When they're all ready, Aragaki coughs once, before saying. "So… after all the heavy stuffs, there are a few Post Script here I need to read. And I can say that, good _god_ , he's going to kill us."

"What did he write?" Fuuka asks.

"Let's see…"

_"PS. Yamagishi, stop using the weight lost belt. We both know it doesn't work. Besides, you weren't even that fat? Just… floppy?"_

"Oh, Yuuki-kun…" She says, before crushing the pen in her hand. "If you were here, we would've talked deeply about it for a _few minutes_."

"The dead can say whatever he well pleased, I guess," Aragaki hums.

_"PS2. Let Amada take care of Koromaru. I'm sure he's going to do fine. Besides, since he's going to be the only one without a girlfriend, we all know a dog companion is the way to go."_

"Ouch, that really stings."

"Yuuki-san!" Amada exclaims, absolutely betrayed.

_"PS3. Sanada-senpai, Kirijou-senpai, seriously, stop having sticks up your butts for a day or two won't hurt, you know. I've told you to live a little, but I fear you might turn that day into either a workout session or a workday again. So please, just… pull those sticks out and have fun like a teenager. You're a student once in a lifetime, you know."_

"…If you were here, I would've _executed_ you by now, Yuuki."

"You missed your chance at Kyoto bath already, Mitsuru."

"Akihiko, _shut up_."

"And, final one," Aragaki says, glancing up at her. Oh boy.

_"PS4. Shinjirou-senpai, I think you might've already asked Yamagishi out by now. If so, don't let her burn things on the frying pan again, please? It's a pain to scrub everything off. And Yukari – do me a favor and keep grilling them about their love (and possibly sex) lives as much as you could. We both know we need to get our revenges for their comments about us."_

"I definitely _will_."

"Oh dear lord, not this."

"Are we going to forgo his comment about _me_ burning food on the pan, Senpai?"

" _Yes_."

They then laugh, the atmosphere once again turning as merry as it could've been.

They've received his words, his messages. So… she's certain they will be alright, now.

* * *

"So that's your gift, Yukari-san?"

She turns to Aigis, who's sitting on the desk next to her in their new dorm. She's glad they were able to call off Aigis' return to the lab, somehow. She smiles a little before turning her eyes to the black, velvet box. She takes the key off her neck and places it beside the gift. "Yeah. He told me I'll know when to open it. I guess… he gave it to be beforehand because he knows he's going to… you know…"

She swallows back the words before eyeing the diary. It's thin, very much so, but if she really knows him well, then the thickness of the thing matters little. Aigis sits down on her own chair and scoots just a little closer. "I see. I'd never understood how you and him could love each other so deeply like this, but I understood that once I've seen the two of you together. Love is beautiful."

"It is," She hums, fingers tracing her name, _Takeba Yukari_ , written on the cover. "I'm glad I fell in love with him. I'm glad I've had a chance to love him, no matter how brief."

Aigis hums.

She then looks at her roommate's desk, the diary and a small box on it. "You read it yet?"

"A few pages," She answers with a small smile. "I could not bare to read it all at once. It's beautiful, but it is also painful."

"Figures," Yukari sighs. "And what's your gift?"

"A necktie," Aigis smiles a little. Upon her puzzled look (really? A _necktie?_ ), the android continues, "I know it might seems strange to you, but the necktie actually help cover the component at the back of my neck. Once school is finished, I'll wear it."

"Ah. I never know that."

She takes a moment to look at the diary again. She knows it would hurt to read, but she wants to, no matter what. With a sigh, she opens the first page, only to see an envelop. She looks at Aigis, who eyes it with a tilted head before saying; "There is no such thing in mine."

"Weird," She murmurs and takes it into her hand. A _Read Me!_ Is written in the back. She looks at Aigis, who is about to leave, before grabbing her wrist. "You… do you mind staying? In case I need a shoulder to cry on and stuffs… literally."

"I do not," Aigis pats her shoulder lightly. "Go ahead, Yukari-san."

She smiles, thankful for her friend's presence, before carefully opening the envelope. She questions why he would write _another_ letter for her instead of putting it in the pages, but shrugs and reads it anyway.

Only a single paper is in it, and she trembly unfolds the letter, eyes scanning the content.

_I know it'd seem strange for me to separate this part from the rest, but I need to._

_If you read this before the diary itself, then all the better._

_There are many things that I regret not being able to do. I want to stay with you. I want to be there for you and everyone else. I want to continue sitting in the chair behind you, sharing my lunch with you, cook for you, and all the other things. I want to continue holding your hand in mine, continue to embrace you, continue to love you._

_Still, I'm glad I get to meet you, Yukari. I'm glad I've had the chance to know you, and to love you._

_You can do whatever you well pleased with the gift later. Toss it into the sea, burn it up, keep it… but don't bind yourself to me because of it. I just want to give you a proof that I love you, more than anyone else, more than anything else._

_It's a question I wish I would've had the chance to ask. A vow I wish I would've had the opportunity to take. After a few years, had I been alive then, I would have asked you myself. But Fate would not be so kind, so I will ask you here. It is best I could do, to ask you like this. I'm sorry._

_Open the box now. You don't have to answer the inquiry, but… it would be nice, if you do._

_Until we meet again, maybe in your dreams, or maybe in another lifetime._

_With Love, Always._

_Makoto._

She blinks away the tears, fingers gently tracing the letters again. She wants to reprimand him for always apologizing for things out of his control, wants to hold him in her arms again, wants to see him, wherever is fine. She feels Aigis' hand on her shoulder, and she smiles lightly, a nod of her head to say that _I'm okay_ , before she reaches for the box.

It's light. She fiddles with it for a moment before unlocking it with the key. The first thing that catches her eyes is the content—

A simple silver ring, her size, with intricate markings of flowers on its surface.

She picks it up, the ring cold against the pads of her fingers. The markings are, if she were to take an educated guess, _commissioned._ Makoto must have, because there is _not_ a single rose on it. But it's beautiful, regardless. She then turns her gaze towards the box, a folded piece of paper tucked neatly on the lid.

She unfolds it, and reads the words slowly.

_Will you marry me?_

It takes her a moment, but when the question finally sinks in, couples with the words from the letter, she finds her self bawling her eyes out, hands clutching the ring to her heart.

She feels Aigis embraces her as her shoulders shake, and she's laughing through the tears, not with sadness this time, but with joy.

"Yes…!" She answers his written question without a second thought. She doesn't care if he's here now or not; he had asked, and she wants to answer. "Yes, _yes,_ I will…!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all of you who've read through this massive work of mine until the end!
> 
> Still! I'll extend this universe with some one shots in the near future, so I hope you'll like those!
> 
> And for that longfic? I somehow turned it into a Ryomina in the end I'm so sorry I tried ;_; (also sprinkled with slow-building AkeShu). I'll be fine if you're not interested in a M/M relationship tho, but if you wish to continue forth with that one, then so be it!
> 
> It will probably be named Zagreus -- as to why, you will see. And Ren is at the center stage, so if you don't like that, it's quite alright too :D also with a lot of angst and lore expansion and whatever clusterfuck else. I've conjured up.
> 
> Chao! Hope to see you folks again really soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me how it is! Constructive criticism is welcomed!


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